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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 





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THE 


HIGHWAY OF SORROW 


A NOVEL 


By 

HESBA ^RETTON 

M 

AND 


S b ^ p TL I Cv Vc j - [OS g uvd. 




I OCl 3 :o94 




NEW YORK 

DODD MEAD & COMPANY 
1894 




Copyright, 1894, 

By Dodd, Mead & Company. 


All rights reserved. 




PREFACE. 


I HAVE written ‘ * The Highway of Sorrow ’ ’ in collab- 
oration with a well-known Russian author, now an exile 
in England, who has supplied me with the outlines of 
the story especially with the prison and Siberian in- 
cidents, which he assures me are founded on facts. It 
would have been impossible for me to have done this 
work without help as complete as that which he has 
rendered. 

For information about Stundism, its simple tenets and 
humble organisation — for it is embraced only by the 
peasants — I am indebted to an anonymous pamphlet, en- 
titled ‘^The Stundists," opportunely published by the 
proprietors of The Christian World just as I was begin- 
ning my task. It seems to me that this poor and perse- 
cuted sect approaches more nearly to the Christians of 
the Apostolic age than any other existing church. They 
have as yet no systematic theology, and no formal ritual. 
They have neither churches nor clergy. The New Tes- 
tament is their code of religious, moral, and social laws ; 
and they interpret its precepts in a very literal and child- 
like manner. The first duty of a Stundist is to learn to 
read, that he may read for himself the words of the 
Lord Jesus Christ. 

These primitive Christians are suffering persecution 
for conscience sake, as flagrant and unrelenting as that 
iii. 


IV. 


PREFACE. 


which in the same country is pursuing the Jews. But 
the Jews have powerful friends among the great philan- 
thropists of their own race ; whilst the Stundists, them- 
selves Russian peasants, are persecuted by their com- 
patriots, with no one to plead their cause before the 
world, and appeal from Russian bigotry to the tribunal 
of public opinion. They are dumb, as our Lord was 
when He was oppressed and afflicted. 

It is for the purpose of making their sorrows and 
martyrdom more widely known that the facts of their 
history have been woven into this story. There has been 
no exaggeration. The worst has not been told. 


HESBA STRETTON. 


CONTENTS, 


CH^TER PAGE 

I.— Anno Domini 1888 

II. — A Stundist Service 9 

III. — Yarina’s Garden Party .... 17 

IV. — SORTES BiBLIC.^ 33 

V.— Panass 40 

VI. — Loukyan at the Fair .... 45 

VII. — An Iconoclast . . . . . . 3^ 

VIII. — Father Vasili 61 

IX. — Strongly Tempted 69 

X. — Match-making 73 

XI. — Arrested 87 

XII. — Batushka and Matoushka ... 96 

XIII. — The Pannotshka’s Grave .... 103 

XIV. — Halya’s Betrothal 113 

XV. — Inquisitors 124 

XVI. — In Deep Waters 134 

XVII. — The Lowest Depths 141 

XVIII. — Stepan’s Outbreak 15 1 

XIX. — Safe Home 160 

XX. — Valerian the Agnostic . . . .170 

XXI. — What is True? 181 

187 


XXII. — A Funeral Service 

V 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIII. — A Disastrous Winter 192 

XXIV. — A Sign and a Dream 200 

XXV. — The Patron Saint’s Day . . . .210 

XXVI. — Exorcising the Stundists .... 218 

XXVII. — Paul’s Defence 226 

XXVIII. — A Miracle 234 

XXIX. — Another Martyr 247 

XXX. — A.D. 1892 o.s. 1893 N.s 261 

XXXI. — Would God It Were Morning . . . 274 

XXXII. — Via Dolorosa 284 


THE 


HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


CHAPTER I. 

ANNO DOMINI 1 888 . 

Old Karpo, the richest man in Knishi, sauntered out 
of his cottage, where he had sheltered from the scorch- 
ing heat. Humping his shoulders peevishly, he set to 
work to make a new handle for his plough ; but moving 
slowly and listlessly, as if he took no pleasure in what he 
was doing. True it was a Sunday, a day when no labour 
should be undertaken ; and it seemed only half a sin to 
work lazily. He knew that properly he ought to sit on 
the turf seat against the cottage wall, ^nd stare into 
vacancy; as he was not fond of gossiping with his 
neighbours. Occasionally, on a Sunday evening, he 
would obey his conscience ; but he was never happy 
without his work, unless his daughter Halya sat beside 
him chatting or singing her pretty songs. 

Halya was not at home, for early in the morning, 
whilst it was still cool enough for the walk, she had 
gone to spend the day with Yarina, her old friend and 
companion. Old Karpo — he was not more than fifty 
years of age, but, being the head of a family, he was al- 

I 


2 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


ways called old— had found the long, hot hours terribly 
dull. There was nothing to do but to watch his grey- 
haired, hard-featured wife, Marfa, fussing about her 
household duties. She was now cooking the supper, and 
the heat of the stove would soon be as bad as the heat 
of the sun. It was more pleasant to be out of the way. 

Knishi was a small village in one of the Oukranian 
provinces, scattered over a slightly rising ground. A 
new life and movement began to appear in its wide, 
grass-grown street. The cattle lowed, and the barn-door 
fowls cackled. The children turned out, and set to play 
at ninepins. Here and there the heavy cranes were 
made to draw up water from the deep wells, to allay 
the thirst of the suffering beasts. The dead stillness of 
the suffocating summer’s day was at an end. 

The June sun had just set below the distant and level 
horizon. Every living creature had sought shelter from 
its scorching rays. But now the long, uneven shadows 
of the hazel coppices glided upwards from the meadows, 
and as though melting in the cooler atmosphere, filled it 
with a faint duskiness. The heavens still burned with 
the flaming sunset, which suffused with crimson and 
gold the feathery clouds floating on the dark-blue vault 
of the sky. The cross of the village church glittered 
like a star against the deep blue. Even the roofs of grey 
thatch seemed touched with a rosy mist ; and the great 
wooden cranes, black with age, which stretched across the 
wells, for a few minutes looked bright in the golden light. 

On the turf seats before the whitewashed cottages the 
villagers were sitting ; men and women chatting over 
their affairs. An air of sweet tranquillity and peace 
reigned. The merry cries of the children at play hardly 
disturbed it. 


ANNO DOMINI 1 888 . 


3 


All at once, from the last cottage in the village, 
came the sound of soft, harmonious singing. It was 
choral singing; but the tune was so solemn it could not 
be an ordinary song. Neither could it be church music, 
for clear female voices were distinctly audible ; and 
women do not sing in the Greek Church choirs. In- 
deed, this song, which floated so softly through the rosy 
twilight, bore no resemblance to any monotonous ancient 
chant of the Church. There was something quite dif- 
ferent about it — a special peasant character — reminding 
one, now of the Cossack ballads, and now of the mourn- 
ful strains of the blind minstrels, who sing for alms on 
festival days in the porches of the Russian churches. 
The voices were fresh and pure, and the singing was so 
full of deep emotion, and so touchingly simple and de- 
vout, that even old Karpo was softened in spite of him- 
self. 

‘*The heretics sing grandly,” he muttered to him- 
self ; and although he kept on with his work for the look 
of the thing, the movements of his arms grew slower 
and slower ; the hatchet rested on the block of wood, 
and old Karpo very nearly stopped to listen. The words 
were not distinguishable at this distance. 

‘^Stop your noise there, you young limbs !” cried 
Marfa, coming to the door and calling to the children, 
who paid no heed to the singing, but went on vehemently 
shouting and knocking about their wooden ninepins. 
The gossips on their turf seats ceased from chatting. 
But for fear of the priest’s anger a little group of village 
people would have collected round the cottage where the 
Stundists were holding their Sunday prayer-meeting. 
The Oukranian peasantry are passionately fond of sing- 


4 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


ing, and this was different at once from church music 
and from village songs. 

“ It sounds as if it came down from heaven,” muttered 
Marfa, not loud enough for her husband to hear; “ but 
it will bring trouble to Halya if Paul goes hand-in-hand 
with them.” 

There were not many Stundists in Knishi, and the 
heresy was still almost a new one. There had been liv- 
ing just beyond the village a bee-master of the name of 
Loukyan, who had earned a good living by selling wax 
and honey. He was a peasant like all the rest, untaught 
and ignorant, able only to read, scarcely able to write. 
But from his youth upwards he had been much given to 
church-going, and wonderfully fond of reading the Bible, 
the words of which were deeply impressed on his mem- 
ory. Father Vasili, the village priest, was often per- 
plexed and annoyed by the questions of his devout pa- 
rishioner, though he felt proud of him as a good Church- 
man. The peasants of all the country round had learned 
to look up to Loukyan, both for his book-learning and 
his good, honest life. Though he was not one of the 
rich farmers, like Karpo, his voice had more weight in 
the Mir than theirs, and his counsel was sought for by 
any of his neighbors who found themselves in any kind 
of difficulty. He was getting on in years now, and had 
been looked upon as a father by the whole parish until 
about two years ago. It was all changed now. The 
change had come so suddenly that the people in Knishi 
said the poor old fellow had gone clean off his head ! 
Father Vasili encouraged this opinion. Loukyan had 
taken his honey and wax to sell in the Kherson province ; 
his ordinary business. But the very day after he came 
back from his journey, when his fellow-members of the 


ANNO DOMINI 1 888 . 


5 


Mir came to visit him and to hear all the news of the 
outside world, what did they see ? It was just at the be- 
ginning of the long fast, the forty days of Lent ; and 
there upon Loukyan’s table stood bowls of ordinary soup, 
and milk, too, and he and his nephew, Demyan, with 
his young wife, were sitting at dinner as if they had for- 
gotten Lent. 

“ Why, Loukyan ? have you lost your senses? ” they 
asked in amazement. 

** No, no ! I have not lost my senses ! ” he answered, 
with twinkling eyes ; “ It’s you that have never come to 
yours. Why should we fast for forty days ? Our Lord 
says in the Scriptures : ‘ Not that which goeth into the 

mouth defileth a man, but that which cometh out of the 
mouth. For from within, out of the heart, proceed evil 
thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders, thefts, covet- 
ousness, an evil eye, blasphemies, pride, foolishness ; all 
these things come from within, and defile the man.’ 
Let us fast from these, and all will be well with us, both 
in Lent and out of Lent.” 

But that was not the sort of fasting that suited them. 
They could not answer him, however; and they went 
away perplexed and discontented. 

The next thing was that Loukyan left off going to the 
parish church, where, for forty years or more, his famil- 
iar face, full of serious and gentle thought, had never 
been missing. Soon after, the village gossips told one 
another that he had taken down the sacred icons from 
the shrine in his cottage. He had bought quite a 
number of them, and some of them were good ones, for 
he never grudged his money for them. But now he 
broke up some of them into splinters, and gave the rest 
to his niece to cover the milk-pails. 


6 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


■ “They are vain idols,” he said to the people who 
asked him the reason of this conduct; “ does not the 
commandment tell us that we are not to make them, or 
to bow down to them ? Must we not obey the voice of 
the Lord our God ? We have all of us bowed down to 
these idols; but now I am going to worship God, and 
Him only.” 

By-and-bye, very quickly indeed, all this reached the 
ears of Father Vasili ; and he came to Loukyan’s cottage 
in his vestments, and bearing the crucifix with him. It 
was a ceremonial visit, almost as if there was going to 
be a funeral in the house. Though Loukyan was a 
troublesome parishioner, full of notions and knotty ques- 
tions, the priest could not bear to lose him from among 
his congregation. But Father Vasili was no controver- 
sialist; and all he could do was to hold the crucifix 
solemnly before Loukyan, and command him to resume 
his habit of going to church. 

“Father Vasili,” said Loukyan, “your church is no 
House of God. It is a place of buying and selling, as 
if a man could buy salvation, or a priest sell it. I can- 
not worship God in it.” 

“ Look on this, and be ashamed, poor sinner ! ” cried 
Father Vasili, pointing to the crucifix with one hand, as 
he held it at arm’s length with the other. 

“I see it,” said Loukyan; “it is an image of the 
cross, and our Saviour nailed upon it. But it is only an 
image, father ! It cannot see me and it cannot hear me. 
It is only, a bit of wood. But I pray to Him who died 
upon the cross ; and I know in my heart that He sees 
and hears me. I can never bow down to that again. It 
would be an offense against God, who has said, * Ye 


ANNO DOMINI 1 888 . 


7 

shall not make gods of silver ; neither shall ye make 
unto you gods of gold.’ ” 

“And you have profaned your icons!” exclaimed 
Father Vasili angrily, turning towards the desecrated 
shrine. ‘ ‘ We shall see what the authorities say about it. ’ ’ 

Some days afterwards two policemen came to Knishi, 
and carried Loukyan away to a town at some distance, 
where he fortunately had a few acquaintances, who had 
often done business with him, and were favourably in- 
clined to him. Loukyan was put into prison, but was 
not on the whole harshly treated. From time to time he 
was put under examination as to his opinions ; but as 
the questions asked him were principally political, he 
could answer them satisfactorily. The new heresy was 
scarcely known in the province ; and the head officials 
did not as yet trouble themselves about it. They could 
not see the full importance of Loukyan’s insignificant 
change of religion ; and after an imprisonment of six 
months he was released with a caution to avoid offending 
his parish priest again. 

Loukyan came back to Knishi ; and with the ardour 
of a messenger with glad tidings, began to spread about 
his new doctrines. His nephew, Demyan, and his wife, 
who lived in the house with him, were his first disciples. 
Next to them came Ooliana Rudenko, a widow with one 
son, who were the richest people in Knishi, next to old 
Karpo. Like Loukyan, Ooliana had been one of the 
most regular and devout worshippers in the village 
church, giving liberally of her substance to the mainte- 
nance of Father Vasili. She and Loukyan had often talked 
together on religious subjects; and now she studied the 
New Testament with eager intelligence ; soon adopting 
the new views, and carrying them out conscientiously. 


8 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


After Ooliana others joined ; until at last ten families, 
who became the most steady and sober and honest of the 
villagers, had formed themselves into a little religious 
community, who worshipped God after their own con- 
sciences. 

Father Vasili, disappointed with the action of the 
police, confined himself to cursing the Stundists from 
the pulpit. The Mir, which had treated Loukyan in- 
dulgently as long as he was alone, looking upon his con- 
duct as a kind of madness, began to be angry. The 
peasants were not very jealous for the Orthodox Church, 
the dues and fees of which were heavy ; but it irritated 
them^ that these people, ordinary peasants like them- 
selves, should set themselves up to be better and wiser 
and holier than their neighbors. The orthodox religion 
had been good enough for their forefathers, and was 
good enough for them. The Stundists were a perpetual 
vexation to the members of the Mir, for their piety, and 
thrift, and sobriety ; and also for the very patience with 
which they bore jeers and injuries from their neighbors. 
Old Karpo was specially infuriated. Ooliana’s son had 
long been in love with his daughter Halya; and no 
match could be more suitable. But if Paul joined the 
new religion nothing should prevail upon him to give 
Halya to him. 

The little Stundist community lived as it were in an 
enemy’s camp. Any day might find them exposed to a 
furious attack. These men and women, whom they had 
known intimately all their lives, with whom they had 
held friendly intercourse, rejoicing with them and weep- 
ing with them, now looked askance at them, and held 
themselves aloof from them. There is no hatred like the 
hatred arising from religious differences. 


CHAPTER II. 


A STUNDIST SERVICE. 

Now, in the darkening twilight of that fair evening, a 
little band of Stundists had met together for prayer and 
the study of the Bible. There were from fifteen to 
twenty persons present, grave and quiet-looking men and 
women, who asked for nothing but to be let to worship 
God, none making them afraid. The slight persecution 
they had so far met with had only tended to draw them 
closer together, and to give them that fervour of spirit 
which seems the especial gift of God to those who suffer 
for righteousness’ sake. How often did they say one to 
another, ‘‘ Blessed are ye when men shall hate you, and 
when they shall separate from you, and shall reproach 
you, and cast out your name as evil. Rejoice ye in that 
day, and leap for joy ; for behold ! your reward is great 
in heaven ! ” Their grave, quiet faces shone with an in- 
ner light ; and their voices took a tone of exultation. 
It was a great thing to endure persecution ! 

It was this persecution which had at first driven Paul 
Rudenko into the band of Stundists. He was indignant 
and hurt at seeing his mother, the best woman in Knishi, 
avoided or molested. Was she not always ready to help 
anyone who was in trouble ? How often had she sat up 
all night nursing the sick and dying ! Her house had 
never been closed to a neighbour. Yet now, because she 
chose to pray in another fashion from theirs, she must be 
insulted and injured, and banished from the society of 
9 


10 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


her old friends. It must be a poor cause which needed 
such weapons. 

But for a long time, half unconsciously, Paul’s love 
for Halya, old Karpo’s daughter, hindered him from de- 
finitely adopting his mother’s religion. Halya and he 
had grown up together, the one the only son, the other 
the only daughter, of the two richest farmers in the dis- 
trict. There had been no formal betrothal, for they 
were both young ; and Paul’s father had died not two 
years ago. But everybody knew that Paul and Halya 
were intended for one another. The course of their love 
had been smooth enough until Ooliana, Paul’s mother, 
had openly joined the Stundists. Ooliana had been in- 
sulted and abused both by old Karpoand his wife Marfa. 
Paul was threatened that he must give up Halya if he 
followed his mother’s example, and attached himself to 
that old fool Loukyan. There was a deep and terrible 
conflict in Paul’s heart between his love for Halya and 
his love for his mother, and the irresistible dawning of 
light in his inmost soul. To please his mother he had fre- 
quently attended the Stundist meetings; but to see Halya 
he had often gone to the village church. 

This evening he was sitting in the cottage, at the 
Stundist prayer-meeting, with one of their hymn-books 
in his hand. Some were singing by heart, not knowing 
how to read. In one corner, seated at a plain deal table, 
was Loukyan, facing the little congregation. He was 
about fifty-five years of age, with a small, pensive face, a 
thin grey beard, and large dreamy hazel eyes, shining 
with intelligence and gentleness. He was softly hum- 
ming the tune, and following with his forefinger the lines 
of the hymn in the small book lying open before him. 


A STUNDIST SERVICE. 


He had long known every word of it ; but, none 
he liked to see the printed words. 

Paul had taken a seat near toLoukyan. He was a tall, 
slim young fellow of twenty-two, with one of those hand- 
some and regular faces, with clear-cut features, which are 
sometimes met with among the Oukranian peasantry. 
He was one of the finest singers in the neighborhood, with 
a pure tenor, voice, which rang out clearly among a chorus 
of voices. Loukyan gave out the hymn, and Paul joined 
in the singing ; but he heard neither his own voice nor 
any other. The words of the hymn absorbed him : 

“ When I survey the wondrous cross 
On which the Prince of glory died, 

My richest gain I count but loss, 

And pour contempt on all my pride. 

See, from His hands. His head. His feet. 

Sorrow and love flow mingled down : 

Did e’er such love and sorrow meet. 

Or thorns compose so rich a crown ? 

Were the whole realm of nature mine 
That were a present far too small ; 

Love so amazing, so divine. 

Demands my soul, my life, my all.” 

Paul sang these words almost unconsciously. The mean- 
ing of them was burning itself into his mind with in- 
tense conviction. He had all his life been given to long 
reveries, which now and then deepened into trances, and 
waking dreams of extraordinary vividness. He was an 
unlearned peasant ; but his imagination had been trained 
and exercised by the poetic legends of his country. His 
mind, like those of his people, was more Oriental than 
Occidental ; and, like the prophets of the Jewish na- 
tion, he saw visions and dreamed dreams. 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


, before this inward eye of his there stood in dis- 
tinct clearness “ the cross on which the Prince of glory 
died.” There had been other saviours of men, who 
also had suffered crucifixion. But here was the chief 
of all, who could say, “ Was ever sorrow like my sor- 
row?” He saw the divine face of the Prince of glory, 
with His crown of thorns ; and the dying eyes looked 
into his inmost soul out of fathomless depths of grief. 
He shuddered as he met that gaze. But beneath the 
sorrow, and greater than it, because sorrow is not in- 
finite, shone out the infinite love of the Son of God. 
And it was love lavished upon him, Paul Rudenko ! 
The parched lips said to him, “ All this I bore for thee ; 
what wilt thou do for Me ? ” His whole soul responded ; 
in unutterable rapture Paul sang the last words of the 
hymn : 


“ Love so amazing, so divine, 

Demands my soul, my life, my all.” 

What was this strange joy which flooded all his in- 
most being ? All the gladness he had ever felt was ab- 
solutely nothing in comparison with this ecstasy and 
rapture of adoration. It was a new life breathed into 
him, such as no words could tell. He did not hear a 
word of Loukyan’s prayer, which followed the singing. 
But when, with a slight stir, the little congregation 
settled itself to listen to the address, Paul came back to 
this lower world. 

Loukyan, putting on his spectacles, and turning over 
the leaves of his New Testament carefully, at last read 
out these verses, with a solemn and profound tenderness 
in his voice : — 

‘‘That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; 


A STUNDIST SERVICE. 


13 


that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, may be 
able to comprehend, with all saints, what is the breadth, 
and length, and depth, and height, and to know the 
love of Christ, which passeth knowledge.” 

Very simply, and in peasant dialect, the old man 
called upon his hearers to consider what human love is, 
as they felt it in their own hearts. The love of fathers 
and mothers, of husbands and wives, of children to 
their parents, of lovers and friends, were all touched 
upon. 

“ All this is love,” he said, and comes from God ; 
for love is of God ; and God Himself is love. And 
the love of God is like them all ; only in this it is differ- 
ent — it never changes, and it never ceases. For hus- 
bands and wives, and parents and children fall out, and 
quarrel, and get separated, and some even hate one an- 
other. * But who shall separate us from the love of 
Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or 
famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? Nay, in 
these things we are more than conquerors, through Him 
that loved us.’ Perhaps if we could see our Lord, our 
love to Him would be earthly, like these others. But 
He says, ‘ Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet 
have believed.’ So we must have Him dwelling in our 
hearts by faith. Dwelling in us, you hear. Why ! if 
He was dwelling now in Jerusalem, say ! would not our 
hearts be empty of Him, but full of yearning? ay! 
and discontent. For He would be so far away, and all 
who love Him could not travel to Jerusalem, and bide 
there in His bodily presence. No, no ! We have 
something better than that. He is dwelling here,” 
cried Loukyan, laying his hand on his heart, **andin 
yours, my sisters; and in yours, my brothers.” 


14 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


Ay ! ay ! ” fell from the lips of most of his hearers. 
They had been hanging on his words ; and it seemed 
only natural to respond when he addressed them so in- 
dividually. Demyan, Loukyan’s nephew, spoke the 
loudest. He was a sturdy, broad-shouldered young fel- 
low ; and his round, freckled face, with its kindly grey 
eyes, revealed the deep emotion with which he listened 
to every word his uncle uttered. He had risen from his 
seat in the corner, and leaned towards the preacher, in 
an attitude of complete abandonment. He had felt all 
these earthly loves ; and the heavenly one was lodged 
in his heart of hearts. The tears rolled down his 
cheeks ; and he wiped them away, now and then, with 
his great, horny hand. 

“And now how much shall we love Him?” asked 
Loukyan, pausing and looking round on the familiar 
faces confronting him, “ how can poor helpless creatures 
like us show our love to the Lord Jesus Christ ? ” 

“ I will die for Him ! ” cried Demyan, falling on his 
knees, and resting his elbows on the table. Behind his 
large hands burst out sobs; and his tangled fair hair 
concealed his agitated face. 

“Ay!” ejaculated Loukyan, “it may be that we 
shall have to die for Him, or deny Him. Our brethren 
in many places are choosing now, at this very hour, be- 
tween dying and denying. But I, God helping me, 
will die for Jesus.” 

“ And I ! ” cried Paul, with a thrilling fervour in his 
voice and face, as he stood up, and drew near the table. 
“ Since I came in here, I have seen Him. I saw Him 
nailed to the shameful cross, with a crown of thorns 
upon His head. And there was in His eyes a love that 
no words could tell. A love passing knowledge I We 


A STUNDIST SERVICE. 1 5 

shall never know its fulness, no ! not through all eter- 
nity. I am ready to die for Him.” 

For a minute there was a dead silence in the cottage. 
Ooliana, his mother, was not there ; but every person 
present knew that she had been praying ardently for 
Paul’s conversion ever since she had herself joined the 
Stundists. Here was the answer to her prayers. But 
there was a solemn note of challenge in Paul’s voice, as 
if he looked into the future and foresaw a conflict unto 
death, if he persisted in obeying his conscience. 
Would Ooliana rejoice if her son was called to martyr- 
dom ? The idea of martyrdom was growing familiar to 
the little band. 

am ready to die for Him,” repeated Paul. The 
sound of his voice broke the spell which bound them ; 
and sobs and murmurs of gladness followed the silence. 
Loukyan stretched out his hands and clasped Paul’s be- 
tween them with a gesture as if he was welcoming him 
into the new fellowship and brotherhood. 

** Thank God ! thank God ! ” he exclaimed. *‘Now, 
Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace; for my 
eyes have seen thy salvation. Thou art blessed and 
chosen of the Lord, Paul Rudenko. If I am taken 
away from this little flock — from these few sheep in the 
wilderness — thou wilt be here to be their shepherd. Let 
us praise God together.” 

Then from the lips of all present rang out the Dox- 
ology of the Greek Church, which had been familiar to 
each of them from their earliest childhood. It was sung 
with deep and solemn triumph, and echoed all down the 
village street in the deepening twilight. Some of the 
peasant women took up the well-known words and tune 
as they sat at their cottage doors. Old Karpo listened 


1 6 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

to it till the last note died away ; but he did not guess 
that it sounded the knell of his Halya’s prosperity and 
happiness. 

Well sung, cursed heretics I'’ he muttered to him- 
self. 


CHAPTER III. 


yarina’s garden party. 

When Paul left the cottage, it was already dark ; only 
in the north-west a line of primrose light showed softly 
the spot where the sun had sunk to rest beyond the 
boundless steppe. The stars hung like lamps in the dark 
blue sky ; and the moon was climbing slowly upwards, 
though, as yet, it gave but little light. The cool air 
caressed his cheek as if with a kiss from heaven ; and 
the clear deep sphere of the sky seemed to clasp the 
earth in its embrace, whilst the stars looked down upon 
it with a loving human gaze. 

*‘The heavens declare thy glory,” he whispered fer- 
vently, sure that he was heard by One who loved him. 
His whole heart was light and glad, with such a joy as 
had never entered his imagination to conceive. All the 
earth was full of the glory of God. His road ran be- 
side a cornfield, and the tall stalks with their thin heavy 
ears of wheat pale in the starlight, were swaying to and 
fro in the night breeze, with broad, rhythmical waves, 
which followed one another over the field as on the sur- 
face of the sea. The gentle rustling of the ears of wheat 
could be hardly said to break the silence. 

Presently the road began to ascend towards a low hill 
covered with shrubs and small trees. Little groups of 
delicate silver birches shook their tremulous leaves against 
the moon, which was now shining more fully. A stream 
ran beside him just below the hill — a shallow stream — 

17 


1 8 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

with here and there an almost motionless pool, which 
reflected a rippling image of the moon and the willows 
growing on its banks. From the wood came the scent 
of newly mown hay ; and three hay-ricks stood out tall 
and black against the sky. Was the earth new-born, 
like himself, that he saw in it a beauty, and a glory, and 
a harmony, such as his most vivid fancy had never yet 
revealed to him ? 

** Blind ! and thou hast given me sight ! Deaf! and 
thou hast opened my ears 1 Dead 1 and thou hast called 
me to life ! ” he said, half aloud. There was a gracious 
companion walking with him as a friend, who would 
never forsake him, or leave him alone and comfortless. 
For evermore, through all the endless ages of eternity, 
he had found a Brother. He had almost reached a 
neighbouring hamlet before he knew he was near it. 
Already he could hear in the distance the merry choral 
songs he used to love so well. The road turned sharply 
to the left round the low spur of the hill, and ran 
straight into the little street. The lights in the cottage 
windows twinkled like glow-worms here and there. As 
if a door had been suddenly opened the song rang out 
clear and low. He could even recognise voices; that 
of Yarina, the best singer in the hamlet, and another 
voice, which made his heart leap. Yes ! Halya was 
there ; his Halya, whom he had loved so long. Almost 
unconsciously to himself his feet had carried him to the 
spot where he could find her. 

Yarina was a young widow, well-to-do, and inclined 
to make the most of her liberty and wealth. Her former 
playmates, the village girls, and still more the young 
men of the village, frequented her house. They hardly 
thought of her as having been a married woman. She 


yarina’s garden party. 19 

lived alone, with an old grandmother, in a pleasant, 
roomy dwelling, with a large garden, sloping down to 
the stream which loitered slowly past her lands. Yarina’s 
cottage was a favourite resort. Nowhere else did the 
young people of Knishi, and its neighbourhood, enjoy 
tliemselves so much. The anxieties and dull gloom of 
middle life were not to be met with there. The old 
grandmother was on the verge of a second childhood, 
and Yarina had not lost the gaiety of girlhood. Judging 
by the sound of many voices in her garden, there was a 
large gathering there to-night, and Halya was certainly 
among them. An irresistible desire to see her, and tell 
her the marvellous change wrought in him, seized upon 
Paul. This was an opportunity of talking with her, 
without her father’s or mother’s presence, which he must 
not lose. 

Yarina’s cottage was in the middle of the hamlet, 
distinguished from its poorer neighbours by its newly 
painted gates and railing. It lay far back, with a wide 
fold-yard before it, and its black outlines stood out 
plainly against the sky. There was no gleam of light on 
this side of the house, for the Oukranians invariably 
build their houses facing the east, even when it involves 
turning their backs to the village street. Yarina’s cot- 
tage looked deserted, and but for the sounds of music 
and laughter which rang round it, one would have 
thought that it was uninhabited. Paul opened the gate, 
and turned round the corner of the house. It was like 
a transformation scene. The low door, and a small 
window on each side of it, were all wide open, and 
streams of light shone through them across a smooth, 
broad grass-plot, already lit up by the rising moon. 
Nearly all the guests were gathered there ; a throng of 


20 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


young men and girls, every one of whom he had known 
from his childhood. Paul drew back into the dark 
shadow of the walls. He did not want to see anyone 
but Halya, or to be seen by them. By-and-bye they 
would scatter in small groups about the garden. Then 
he trusted to find her for a few minutes alone. 

The merry laughter and singing had ceased. Almost 
the only sound to be heard was the scraping of a shrill 
home-made fiddle, played by a fiddler, blind of one eye. 
He was playing the gay national dance, called the 

Casatchok.” The dance had just begun, and on the 
smooth level lawn a circle of young men and girls sur- 
rounded the dancers. Of these there were only two. 
Yarina herself was one, a tall, dark, beautiful woman, 
with laughing brown eyes, and a pert, slightly turned-up 
nose. She stood with one of her round arms akimbo, 
and the attitude showed off her pretty figure to perfec- 
tion. Her full red lips were slightly parted with a 
smile, as from time to time she glided a few paces to the 
left or to the right, as easily and gracefully as the flight 
of a swallow when it just skims the surface of the 
ground ; her little red shoes hardly seeming to press the 
blades of grass under her tread. But in the Oukranian 
dances the chief part belongs to the man. 

Yarina’s partner was Panass, who, from their boy- 
hood, had been Paul’s rival in Knishi. Next to Paul he 
had hitherto been the most desirable match in the neigh- 
bourhood ; and now that Paul had joined the Stundists, 
he would be far before him in the estimation of the pub- 
lic. He was a tall, well-made young fellow, with an 
ordinary peasant-like face; but agile and light-footed, 
and the best dancer in the country for miles round 
Knishi. All the crowd stood silently watching him. 


yarina’s garden party. 


21 


Panass was whirling round Yarina, now and then rush- 
ing towards her, and falling back as if disheartened by 
her careless indifference. Sometimes he squatted on the 
ground in a despairing mood, and then he leaped ex- 
ultantly into the air, clashing his heels together, and 
making wonderful steps, not dreamed of by any danc- 
ing master. His swarthy face was bathed in perspira- 
tion, and it kept throughout a serious, almost gloomy 
expression. By this trait one might recognise him as a 
genuine Oukranian dancer, to whom the dance was 
more, far more than a mere pastime. 

Paul looked from his hiding-place round the throng 
of spectators. The bright light from- the open door and 
windows illuminated the faces of those near the house, 
and the moonlight shone full upon those on the other 
side of the circle. But Halya was not among them. 
Perhaps she was in the gardens beyond ? He stole 
softly away, and traversed the empty walks; but he 
could not find her. Nearly all the guests were breath- 
lessly watching Yarina and Panass. \ 

The dance, in the meantime, ,was growing more and 
more animated. The one-eyed fiddler quickened the 
time and played more briskly. Panass, striking the 
ground fiercely with his heels, made his circles closer 
and closer, each one bringing him nearer to Yarina. 
She no longer glided away from him, shrinking from his 
approach ; but she stood still, her arms fallen to her 
side, looking as if she was about to swoon away with 
half-concealed emotion. The only other movement of 
her all but motionless figure was a slight sidling to and 
fro of her little red feet. The dramatic dance was com- 
ing to a close. For the last time Panass squatted on the 
ground before Yarina. For the last time he made his 


22 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


circle round her with slower and triumphant steps. He 
had won his love; and now both stood up, holding one 
another by the hand. They bowed to the spectators, 
and moved away in different directions, indicating in 
this way that they were not really lovers, but had merely 
performed together the lovers’ dance. 

The one-eyed fiddler began to strum a song ; but no- 
body listened to him. They strolled away into the 
garden by twos and threes ; talking here in animated 
tones, there with hushed voices. Some of them were 
lovers, though they doubted whether they could ever be 
husbands and wives. Love was in their own power; 
but marriage must be decided by the arbitrary will of 
fathers, who were nearly always guided exclusively by 
sordid considerations of property and prospects. This 
fact, well known and recognised as an inevitable fate, 
gave an underlying sadness to the love-making of the 
young couples. 

After marriage a woman becomes the absolute property 
of her husband, with no freedom or rights of her own. 
She is his servant and drudge. Her children are his, 
not her own. But before marriage a girl is at liberty to 
see, and talk, and walk out with anyone — even to stay 
out until the dawn, nobody blaming or suspecting her. 
Often the simplest, and sincerest, and purest friendship 
exists between two young people whose parents will not 
consent to their being betrothed lovers. 

All the poetry and tenderness in which the southern 
branch of the Russian race is so rich, are concentrated 
on the pure, confiding, and romantic relations cherished 
between a Russian youth and maiden. A friendship as 
high-minded and self-controlled as the devotion of a 
knight to his lady in the best days of chivalry. 


yarina’s garden party. 


23 


In Yarina’s garden were scattered young couples. 
Some of them sat down together on the grass, others 
strayed away under the trees. Most of them paced to 
and fro hand in hand, flitting across the bright streams 
of light, and gliding away into the moon-lit walks. The 
girls — in their snowy-white blouses, open at the throat, 
and their full, light skirts with brilliant sashes round 
their waists, and ribbons in their hair — looked somewhat 
like the tall, many-coloured lilies growing in the garden 
borders. Even the slightly-stupid Panass saw the re- 
semblance. 

“You’re like a living flower,” he said to Yarina. 
* ‘ And we poor lads in our blue coats are like the bum- 
ble bees, seeking the best honey.” 

“The largest quantity of honey ! ” answered Yarina 
sharply. 

Panass was hesitating between Yarina and Halya ; or, 
rather, his father was diligently weighing the merits of 
the one against the other, before sending the match- 
makers. 

The soft hum of whispering voices was now and then 
broken in upon by the sound of a kiss or a peal of 
laughter. In some quiet shade might be heard a tender 
love-song, sung in a subdued voice, and intended jeal- 
ously for the ear of one listener only. All were wrapt 
up in themselves, and each other ; and no one noticed 
Paul, who went once more round the garden, seeking in 
vain for Halya. Below the garden ran the river, glim- 
mering in the moonlight ; and a warm hurried breeze 
blew across it. Paul strolled down the slope, but Halya 
was not there. 

Suddenly, from the opposite shore, came the trill of 
the Oukranian nightingale, ringing as clear as a bell. 


24 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


and drowning the laughter and the hum of voices, with 
a dominant note like that of a solo-singer, whose voice 
rises high above the music of the accompaniment. Paul 
stood listening awhile, entranced by the jubilant notes. 
But before long, his anxiety to see Halya drew him back 
towards the house. 

As he approached it, still keeping in the shadows, he 
saw Panass go through the open doorway. 

“She is there ! ” said Paul to himself. It seemed as 
if a cold breath blew across his spirit, which had been 
on fire so short a time ago. He stood with his ^yes 
riveted on the doorway. Presently, the pretty face he 
loved so dearly, and the slim, graceful form, stood upon 
the threshold ; and Halya seemed to be gazing timidly 
into the moon-lit garden. She had been sitting with the 
old grandmother, to escape the attentions of Panass ; 
but now he had pursued her there, she felt there would 
be more safety for her in the companionship of her 
friend Yarina. Paul was rushing towards her, when he 
saw she was not alone. Panass was following close upon 
her steps, with a bandoura in his hand, on which he 
lightly touched a few notes, whilst he spoke to her in 
low tones. She shook her head, and hesitated to pass 
on with him out of the light, and into the moon-lit gar- 
den. She had never drawn back from Paul. 

Along the walls of the house ran a seat made of turf 
and soil, baked hard by the hot sun. Halya sat down 
on it, and Panass took his place on the ground, at her 
feet, and rested his head against her knee, as he went on 
tuning the strings of his bandoura. Paul could bear the 
sight no longer. 

“Halya!” he cried, coming forward out of the 
shadow. 


yarina’s garden party. 


25 

She lifted her eyes to him coldly, and did not stir 
from her position. 

** Good evening ! ” she said in a tone of distant re- 
serve. But Panass sprang to his feet with a shout. 

“ Why, Paul ! Paul the Stundist ! Paul the saint ! 
Paul the apostle ! ” he shouted. “You here among us 
heathens? Come here, boys!” he bawled, “come 
here ! Here is Paul the apostle ! Let’s try him 1 Let’s 
see what he will put up with ? He has thrown himself 
into our hands 1 ” 

It was an unforeseen chance, which took them all by 
surprise. A cruel wish arose among the young people, 
especially the men, to amuse themselves at Paul’s ex- 
pense. His lot in life was so far above the average ; he 
was so much richer, and more handsome; so much 
more gifted than any of them, that it came natural to 
them to wish to see him humiliated. 

The young men and girls flocked towards the house at 
the loud call of Panass, from all parts of the garden. 
Some of them had still their arms entwined round each 
other, with the supreme indifference of rustic lovers to 
the jesting remarks of their comrades. They stood 
gazing with dreamy eyes at the scene before them. 
Panass continued to jeer at Paul. 

“Now, you apostle,” he said, “sing us one of your 
songs of Zion, as you call them, and let it be a merry 
one.” 

He played a few chords upon his bandoura, and began 
to parody a Stundist hymn to a tune which was a favour- 
ite one with the Stundists. The crowd which surrounded 
them began to laugh boisterously. 

“Come, come, apostle!” sneered Panass. “Sing 


26 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


second, or be our leader. You have a fine voice, every- 
body knows.” 

Paul looked at Halya, who sat silent and motionless 
on the turf seat. She had turned pale, but her face was 
in shadow, and he could not see that she felt any emo- 
tion. It seemed as if she was studiously indifferent to 
his presence, and the ridicule to which Panass was sub- 
jecting him. His heart failed him. He felt desolately 
alone in this throng of familiar and dear faces. For he 
had loved these mockers ; he had worked with them, 
played with them ; gone in their company to many a 
merry festival, and to sorrowful funerals. They were 
his comrades, his brothers and sisters ; they had clasped 
hands in true fellowship. And now ! Oh sorrowful 
words of the Lord and Master: ‘‘The brother shall 
deliver up his brother to death, and the father the child ; 
and the children shall rise up against their parents, and 
cause them to be put to death. And ye shall be hated 
of all men for my name’s sake.” 

For a moment or two a strong temptation assailed him 
to meet this insensate mockery with reviling. A voice 
said within him : “Ye fools ! ye pagans ! you laugh at 
a thing of which you have no understanding.” He al- 
most longed to hear their stupid laughter change into a 
roar of rage. He was ready to suffer martyrdom for the 
Lord whom he had seen in a vision so short a time ago. 
But upon this feeling of wrath, mingled with contempt, 
came the remembrance of the patience of the Lord 
Jesus Christ, “who, when he was reviled, reviled not 
. again.” A softened mood of friendliness towards his 
old companions took possession of him, and he turned 
his beautiful face towards them, with a mournful smile 
upon it. 


yarina’s garden party. 


27 


“Well,” he said, “ for the sake of old times, never 
forgotten by me, give me the bandoura. I will sing you 
one of your favourite songs.” 

Panass ceased laughing, and with an air of astonish- 
ment, passed him the bandoura. The crowd grew si- 
lent, too ; only the singing of the nightingale across the 
river could be heard. Paul sat down on the turf seat, at 
a little distance from Halya, and struck some chords of 
simple melody on the bandoura ; and after a minute or 
two, his pure sweet tenor voice rang out the opening 
words of a Cossack ballad. He felt that he could not 
sing a hymn to that scoffing audience. 

In the meantime Panass had recovered from his sur- 
prise, and now squatted down in front of him, prepared 
to accompany his singing with ridiculous gestures, pro- 
vocative of laughter and derision from the crowd. He 
had expected Paul would sing a Stundist hymn. But at 
the first unsteady notes of the mellow voice which had 
so often charmed them, the temper of the listeners 
changed. A solemn, sympathetic mood fell upon each 
, one present. Even Panass, on whose face the jeering 
smile had settled into a grimace, listened with most at- 
tentive ears. The beautiful Yarina stood leaning against 
the doorpost, her laughing eyes half shut and dim with 
tears. The ballad was a pathetic one : the farewell of a 
young Cossack warrior to the home and the friends of 
his boyhood. He was going forth to fight the Paynim, 
and rescue the Christian captives, held in bondage by 
the infidels. But no vision of glory and victory be- 
guiled him ; the presentiment of death on the battlefield 
ran through the ballad. Never more would he cross the 
threshold of his home ; never more clasp hands with the 
friend who was dearer than a brother ; never more kiss 


28 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


the lips of the maiden who was betrothed to him. And 
all was well, because his warfare was for his holy creed. 

Yarina listened, and it seemed to her that she was no 
longer a gay young widow courted by all the marriage- 
able men in the country. She was a light-hearted, pure- 
minded girl again, full of good impulses. She recalled 
her life with her husband, who had lived one single 
happy year with her in this home of hers. She felt 
ashamed of having forgotten him so soon. These 
merry-makings, with their high revelry, were a dis- 
honour to his memory. She, too, had her warfare to 
engage in. A desire crossed her mind to renounce this 
careless life. She would shut herself up in a hermitage, 
or a nunnery, and give all her goods to the Church. 
How grand that would be ! And how all the world 
would honour her ! 

The one-eyed fiddler was listening and dreaming too. 
With head bent down he was brooding over the old 
times, when Cossack knights lived in Oukrania, re- 
dressing grievances and fighting the Turks. He fancied 
himself a warlike minstrel, no longer fiddling at drunken 
feasts for a few kopecks; but mounting a horse, and 
riding to the wars. It was not Petro who had knocked 
out his eye in a drunken brawl ; but he had lost it in 
noble combat for Christ’s sake, with that very same 
Turkish pasha of whom Paul was singing. 

And Paul’s song grew stronger and more thrilling as 
he felt the sympathy it evoked in his listeners. His 
voice grew more and more pathetic, and his face glowed 
with emotion. Both he and they forgot the vital differ- 
ence which separated them. They were living in the 
magical world of heroic memories. All of them had 
been brought up on the legends of their famous men of 


yarina’s garden party. 


29 


olden days; legends of renown, numerous among the 
poetical and romantic people of Little Russia. 

The song drew near its end ; the last full, plaintive 
note died away into the quiet night, echoed by the trill 
of the nightingale. But no one moved, or uttered a 
word. Even Panass was silenced. What more was to 
follow ? 

When they came to themselves, as it were, Paul had 
disappeared. He was himself deeply moved, and could 
not bear to see them coming back to their mood of 
ridicule, or even to hear their idle applause. Halya 
had kept her face turned away from him; there was 
nothing to be expected from her. He stole quickly and 
silently away, and turned sadly homeward. 

His road took him through Knishi again, where all 
was quiet in the village street. The wooden church, 
with its green cupola, and the wells with their long 
cranes ; the cottages standing at the bottom of their fold- 
yards ; the priest’s stone house — all were familiar to him, 
and seemed to warn him that he was setting his feet in 
a path of terrible estrangement and loneliness. He had 
already lingeringly passed Halya’s home, when he heard 
footsteps running after him. He turned, and speechless 
with joy, he could not for a moment breathe a word. It 
was Halya herself. Halya ! " he exclaimed when he 
recovered from his surprise. “ Halya ! ” 

Yes ! ” stammered the girl, who was out of breath 
with running as fast as she could, what did you come 
for?” 

Paul seized her hand. 

My own darling ! ” he exclaimed, ** how glad you 
make me ! I thought you had turned away from me, 


30 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


and would never look at me again. Why were you so 
cruel to me, my Halya?” 

Halya drew away her hand, and repeated her question, 
almost angrily. What did you come for? ” she asked 
again. 

Why do you ask ? ” said Paul, in a faltering voice ; 

I came to see you. Don’t you know that I hardly feel 
alive when I cannot see you and talk to you.” 

She did not answer, but stood before him with down- 
cast eyes, and an expectant expression, as if she was 
waiting for something more. Her face was pale and 
wistful in the moonlight. 

‘‘You are not going to marry Panass?” said Paul 
hesitatingly. 

“ How do I know ? ” she asked, in almost a peevish 
tone; “father will settle all that. He would let me 
marry you, if you were not an infidel. It is breaking 
my heart. How can you renounce Christ, and all the 
saints, and our holy Church ? ” 

“ We infidels ! We renounce Christ ! ” exclaimed 
Paul, “that is what our enemies say. But you know 
better, my little bird. You know Loukyan and Dem- 
yan, and my mother. And I came to tell you, Halya, 
that my mind is made up. I have cast in my lot with 
them. I shall never enter the church again in order to 
worship God. I never have worshipped Him truly 
there.” 

Halya was exceedingly sorrowful. Until quite lately 
Paul had attended the church services when she was 
present, though his mother had long absented herself. 
Old Karpo had sworn that he would never give his 
daughter to a Stundist ; and Paul’s decision was a death- 
blow to her hopes. She loved him ; she could not 


yarina’s garden party. 


31 

recollect the time when they had not loved one another. 
Panass frightened her; he looked at her with almost 
savage eyes of desire. If she became his wife, he would 
soon treat her as her father treated her mother, making 
her into a slave and drudge, who lived a life of daily 
terror. The Stundists were not like that. They looked 
upon their wives as equals ; and Paul especially was so 
tender, so thoughtful for her; treated her always with so 
much honour, that she felt as safe beside him as if she 
had been by her mother’s side. She could not give him 
up. 

If you care for me,” she said, creeping closer to 
him, and laying her hand on his shoulder, ** listen to 
me. Why cannot you wait a little; come to church, 
and pay your dues, to please Father Vasili and my 
father ; and when we are safely married turn Stundist if 
you choose. They could not unmarry us; but now ” — 
her low whisper broke into sobs. 

It seemed so simple, so feasible, so innocent a strata- 
gem to poor Halya ; whilst to Paul it sounded stark, 
horrible blasphemy. He shrank from her gentle touch ; 
and his voice sounded stern as he answered her. You 
do not know what you are saying,” he exclaimed, ** you 
ask me to be a hypocrite — the deadliest sin of all ! I 
should be lying both to God and man. You torture me, 
my own dearest,” he added mournfully, taking her hand 
into his, with a sudden overflow of pity and love flood- 
ing his heart. She did not know what all this meant to 
him. 

“When you went away,” said Halya, “ Panass told 
me his father was going to send the match-makers to my 
father this very week. Father will consent, I know ; for 
they are rich folks. Oh, Paul ! save me ! I could not 


32 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


endure him when he laid his head against my knee, 
Paul, think what it will be if we are separated. It is 
not a heathen temple I ask you to come to. It is a 
Christian church. What harm would it do? You say 
you can worship God anywhere. Why not in church, 
to please Father Vasili ? Cannot you do this little thing 
to save me?” 

I could give my life to save you,” he answered, 
“but I cannot disobey my Lord and Saviour. I cannot 
be a hypocrite. Oh ! Halya, you are dearer to me than 
myself ; but you are not dearer than God.” 

“ Then you have seen the last of me ! ” she cried, 
tearing her hand away, and speaking in a very bitter 
tone ; “ you give me up to Panass ! ” 

She turned suddenly away, and ran homeward. Paul, 
with a heavy heart, watched her slender form hastening 
out of his sight ; and then he turned his steps towards 
the farmstead, where his mother was waiting for him. 


CHAPTER IV. 


SORTES BIBLICiE. 

OsTRON lay about half a mile from Knishi, a little 
hamlet containing five or six homesteads, of which 
Paul’s was by far the largest and best kept. The fold- 
yard lying in front of the house was swept and orderly ; 
the cattle-sheds and stables were trim and weather-tight ; 
and the barns were in good repair. The whole place 
bore a prosperous and cared-for appearance. 

Ooliana, Paul’s mother, was one of Loukyan’s earliest 
disciples. Their mutual seriousness, and strict observ- 
ance of Church rites, had made them friends many 
years before ; and Ooliana was speedily convinced by 
the same reasons which had won Loukyan to adopt the 
Stundist faith — they could hardly be said to have a creed. 
Her most fervent prayer had been that Paul should throw 
off the superstitions of the Orthodox Church. But her 
influence was constantly counteracted by that of Halya ; 
his love for her leading him to continue his attendance 
at the parish church, even after he had owned himself 
convinced by argument that there was no true worship 
of God there. Ooliana had always regarded Halya as 
her son’s future wife ; and though she loved her, there 
was that subtle, instinctive jealousy of her, which every 
woman feels of the girl who is destined to steal away her 
son from her. Besides, now she was herself ' a Stundist 
she felt as Rebekah felt towards the daughters of Heth. 
There was no girl in Knishi as worthy of Paul as Halya ; 

33 


34 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


but in towns where the Stundists were more numerous, 
there were many brethren whose daughters would be 
more fitting helpmates. Like Rebekah, she said, “What 
good will my life be to me if Paul marries Halya? ” 

She was still a woman in middle age, strong, and ca- 
pable, and business-like. Until she became a Stundist, 
she was very popular in Knishi, for her heart was 
warm and her hand .open. Her fine, handsome face, 
and her firm, alert step had been one of the wel- 
come sights of the grass-grown village street. There 
was not a house she had not entered on some er- 
rand of friendship or charity ; and Ooliana had been 
the first to be summoned when a disaster of any kind 
occurred. She was a good nurse and a fair doctor ; and 
and as no doctor lived within twenty miles, she enjoyed 
a large practice, without fees. 

To-night she had not been to the prayer-meeting at 
Knishi because she had been tending a dying child at 
Ostron. She did not know that her ceaseless, ardent 
prayers for Paul’s conversion were at last fulfilled. The 
church clock, quite audible in the quiet night, struck 
eight, the hour when Loukyan finished his sermon.. It 
was usual to linger a little while in friendly conversation ; 
so she could not expect Paul quite yet. The large, 
roomy house-place grew dark ; and she lighted one wick 
of the three-socketed lamp, and put it on the oak table, 
upon which she began to lay out the supper. 

In the dim light the room was full of shadows, but it 
looked comfortable and homelike. The oak table, on 
which there was no cloth, was very clean, and the oak 
benches standing along the walls were polished till they 
reflected the twinkling lamp-light. A few pictures hung 
against the walls, their subjects indistinguishable in the 


SORTES BIBLICiE. 35 

dimness. The empty icon shrine looked like a black 
niche in its place of honor. 

Paul’s supper was ready, being kept warm in the huge 
Russian stove, which seemed to fill half the room. 
Ooliana stood at the door watching and listening. She 
heard the neighing of her horses, the grunting of the 
pigs, and the cluck of the fowls in the various sheds sur- 
rounding the fold-yard, but Paul’s footsteps she could 
not catch. The clock in Knishi struck nine. She put 
out the lamp, and sat down in the window to knit by 
moonlight. 

He is stopping with that girl ! ” she said, half an- 
grily, half sadly, to herself. The daughters of Heth are 
always sources of great trouble to saintly mothers. 
“ Save him, O Lord ! ” whispered Ooliana ; save my 
son in his hour of temptation. Save the soul of my 
Paul ! ” 

' A few minutes after this softly-murmured prayer, she 
heard the welcome sound of his well-known footsteps 
coming near the farmyard. His favourite mare whin- 
nied, and his dog sprang out to meet him. Before he 
could reach the door the three sockets of the lamp were 
lit, and a cheerful light chased away the darkness. She 
saw, as he crossed the threshold, that something unusual 
had happened. There was an indescribable expression 
of noble decision and of deep sorrow on his face. 

Without a word, but with great tenderness, Ooliana 
placed his food upon the table, and set a chair before it. 
For a minute Paul sat silently gazing across the room to 
the empty icon shrine. The glory of his vision was 
gone, but the conviction it had wrought remained. 

Mother ! ” he said, standing up and facing her; 


36 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

^^mother, I have cast in my lot with you. I am a 
Stundist.” 

Praise God ! ” she cried. 

Ay,” he said, “ they sang, ^ Praise God ! ’ and I 
never heard a sound so solemn in my life. It was as if 
I heard the angels singing it in heaven with their 
harps. ’ ’ 

“They were singing it, my son,” said Ooliana. 
“ Our Lord says, ‘ There is joy in the presence of the 
angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.’ You fill 
my heart with joy, Paul.” 

“Mother,” he resumed, after a short pause, “ I was 
full of a peace and gladness passing all understanding, 
till I saw Halya ” 

“ You must give her up,” interrupted Ooliana gently. 
“ It will be the hardest trial of all; but if the Lord re- 
quires it ” 

“All that I am and have are His,” cried Paul. “I 
will hold nothing back. But she has given up me ; she 
has forsaken me. She will marry Panass.” 

A crowd of contending emotions took possession of 
Ooliana : profound joy over her son’s conversion ; vivid 
sympathy with his grief at losing Halya ; relief at the 
fact that she could never be Paul’s wife, and yet an 
ardent desire that her son’s love — so faithful and tender 
— should be satisfied. She stood gazing at him, with ail 
the unfathomable love and devotion of a mother shining 
in her clear, dark eyes. At last she broke the throbbing 
silence, with a supreme effort at self-abnegation. 

“She is in God’s hands,” she said. “I will pray 
day and night for her that she may be brought out of 
darkness into light. I will pray that you may have your 
heart’s desire. Has not our Lord said, ‘ Whatsoever ye 


SORTES BIBLICiE. 37 

shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive ’ ? You 
and I will pray for Halya’s conversion, Paul." 

“Mother," he said, “bring me the Bible, and let 
me open it at a venture. It may be that God will show 
us what is His will concerning this." 

Ooliana fetched her Bible, bought several years ago, 
and so faithfully and constantly read that it looked as if 
it might have been in her possession all her life. She 
laid it solemnly on the table before Paul, in the light of 
the lamp, and both of them, with shaded eyes, uttered 
a mental prayer. Ooliana, with irrepressible eagerness, 
looked over Paul’s shoulder, as he opened the closed 
Bible and laid his finger on averse. She saw at a glance 
what it was. 

“ And Ruth said. Intreat me not to leave thee, or to 
return from following after thee : for whither thou goest, 
I will go ; and where thou lodgest I will lodge ; thy 
people shall be my people, and thy God, my God." 

Ooliana laid her hands upon her son’s bowed head. 
God had given them a message, a token of His will, and 
she must submit to it — nay, she must embrace it. The 
lingering, insidious jealousy must be rooted out of her 
heart, and Halya must lodge there, as Paul did. 

After a moment or two Paul looked up to her with 
shining eyes. 

“ What does it mean, mother? ’’ he whispered. 

“ Halya will go with thee whithersoever thou goest," 
she answered. “Where thou lodgest, she will lodge: 
thy people shall be her people, and thy God her God. 
The message is plain, my son." 

“ Let us pray together," she said, after a short pause 
of silent gladness. She was often called upon to pray 
at the prayer-meetings ; and now, with her son kneeling 


38 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


beside her, she poured forth a rhapsody of supplication 
and thanksgiving. 

Ooliana could not sleep that night. She knew that 
Paul had taken his first step on a path in which perse- 
cution might drive him to exile or death. So far, there 
had been no serious persecution in Knishi, and the 
young heresy had been treated with contempt and ridi- 
cule only. Father Vasili was rather above the average 
of village priests — an ignorant, superstitious man, gener- 
ally good-tempered towards his parishioners ; but he was 
very avaricious, and made hard bargains for his fees. 
He had occasionally refused to visit the dying, until the 
family consented to pay double dues. He and his wife 
had been very friendly with Ooliana ; and although she 
could no longer conscientiously pay for the blessing of 
her fields and cattle and stores, or give the Easter of- 
ferings, she still made them handsome presents of all her 
produce. The friendly intercourse was over for ever, 
but, without doubt, they would send for Ooliana if there 
was any sickness in their household. 

As yet the Stundists in Knishi were not a tenth of the 
population. But Ooliana, even more than Loukyan, 
was an ardent proselytiser. She longed to make every 
one of her neighbors, with whom she had such intimate 
relations, partakers with her of the great blessings of the 
Gospel she had received. She never lost an opportunity 
of telling the simple story of the New Testament, es- 
pecially when the hearts of her hearers were softened by 
sickness or sorrow. Stundism was silently, but rapidly, 
spreading its roots in Knishi ; and many a peasant, both 
of men and women, who went punctiliously to church, 
came secretly for instruction in the new faith. 

But Ooliana knew well how bitterly the storm of per- 


SORTES BIBLICiE. 


39 


secution was beating upon the brethren elsewhere. 
Across all the blessedness and glory of Paul’s conversion 
fell the dark shadow of terrible days to come. She 
could not wish that he had not joined the ranks of the 
spiritual crusaders, who were waging war against the 
deadly superstitions of the Orthodox Church. Nay ! 
she prayed that he might be a leader and hero in the 
strife. If he lived, he would live unto the Lord ; if he 
died he would die unto the Lord ; living or dying, he 
would be the Lord’s. She saw the crown of martyrdom 
hanging over his head, and her spirit exulted ; but her 
mother’s heart quailed with anguish. “If it be pos- 
sible,” she cried, “let this cup pass from me; never- 
theless, not my will, but Thine be done.” 

Paul had spread a rug on the turf seat outside the 
door, and lay down upon it in the cool and scented 
night air. Far off, he could still hear the trill of the 
nightingale that had sung to him in Yarina’s garden. 
Low sounds from the sheds around him fell softly on his 
ear ; above him the moon hung in the dark-blue vault ; 
and far away the clear, distinct horizon showed where 
the earth and sky met. This was his birthplace, his 
home, his beloved country. It seemed as if all about 
him was tenfold dearer than it had been in the morning 
of that day. He could die for his country : how much 
more, then, could he die for his Lord ? His whole soul 
seemed melted in a close communion with God, who 
filled the earth, and air, and sky, and in whom he lived, 
and moved, and had his being. 


CHAPTER V. 


PAN ASS. 

After quitting Paul in such an angry mood, Halya 
ran till she was breathless, spurred by a sense of having 
lowered herself by speaking to him. She, the richest 
heiress in the whole neighbourhood, her father’s only 
child, had run after a lover who cared little for her, and 
she had all but besought him to marry her. Her pulses 
beat and her cheeks burned at the remembrance. She 
would go back to Yarina’s, rejoin the evening guests, 
and forget her mortification and disappointment. The 
adulation she was sure to receive there would heal her 
wounded self-love. 

“ Fool, fool that I was ! ” she thought, boiling with 
indignation. “ He had only to sing a song, and I was 
ready to follow him to the world’s end. He does not 
love me ! — no, he does not love me ! ” she repeated, 
half aloud, while hot tears rolled down her cheeks. 

She had reached a well, and, leaning against its 
wooden frame-work, she gave way to a passion of weep- 
ing. Suddenly a sound startled her, and she lifted up her 
head to listen, like a frightened bird. It was nothing 
save the creaking of the crane above her head, but it 
aroused her. In a minute or two, afraid of people pass- 
ing and seeing her in the bright moonlight, she let down 
the bucket into the well, and drew it up sparkling and 
dripping with water. She bathed her eyes, and eagerly 
quenched the burning thirst she felt in her parched 
40 


PANASS. 


41 


throat. Then, with slower steps, pausing now and then 
as if in some doubt, she went on to Yarina’s. 

A dance was in full swing again, and Halya went on 
to the grass plot where it was going on, with little expres- 
sion of trouble on her pretty face. Paul should know she 
was not inconsolable because he preferred his stupid old 
Stundists to herself. She was afraid her absence might 
have been noticed, and she tried to mingle with the 
crowd of guests as if she had never left it. But all at 
once, a voice which made her shudder spoke close in her 
ear. 

*^Ha! ha!” said Panass, with a false-sounding 
laugh. ** Paul the apostle did not come here for noth- 
ing.” 

He had noticed her absence, then ! No doubt he had 
watched her creep across the fold-yard and follow Paul’s 
steps. And he had been watching for her return. 
Halya was half-frightened, and wholly provoked and 
miserable, but she dared not show her trouble. She 
shrugged her shoulders with a little laugh of scorn. 

“ You know best whether he came for nothing,” she 
said. *‘He sang us such a song as you could never 
sing, nor anybody else, in all Knishi.” 

The words hit him hard, and he looked so vexed that 
she laughed. 

“ You don’t like that,” she added. 

“ You ran after him ! ” cried Panass. I know it. 
I saw you flying like a bird after her mate.” 

“ Perhaps I did I Perhaps I ran to the well to drink 
some water I What is that to you ? ” she asked, with a 
glance of contempt that provoked him. 

All the other girls in the village were doing their ut- 
most to win him, but Halya was always laughing at him. 


42 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


It was this which attracted him to her as much as her 
beauty. There were other pretty girls in Knishi, but 
they were all at his beck. His voice changed to a softer 
key, and when he spoke again it seemed as if he was 
continuing some conversation which had been inter- 
rupted. 

“But you have not answered me about the match- 
makers,” he said. “ May I send them to your 
father ? ” 

His voice was thin and piping, strangely at variance 
with his strong frame, and the harsh expression of his 
swarthy face. 

“You can send them,” she said petulantly; “the 
door is open to anybody. Father has plenty of pump- 
kins in his garden ; and I will roast two of them in good 
time; one for you, and one for Paul. You shall carry 
Paul’s to him yourself.” 

Panass laughed with hearty good-humour. A roasted 
pumpkin offered by a girl to the match-makers, who 
came with a proposal of marriage, meant absolute re- 
fusal. Of course, Halya was making fun of him ; and 
her coupling Paul’s name with his, as a candidate for a 
roasted pumpkin, was very encouraging. 

“ But Paul cannot play the bandoura as I can,” he 
said good-temperedly ; “shall I sing a new song I 
learned from the bishop’s best singer? He taught it to 
me when I treated him in a public-house.” 

“ Yes,” she answered, in an indifferent tone. 

Panass sang a parody of such a ballad as Paul had 
sung, in a high-pitched, falsetto voice, accompanying it 
with a really clever performance on the bandoura. She 
felt as if he, his voice, and bandoura were all alike hate- 
ful to her. But she would encourage him, partly to 


PANASS. 


43 


vex Paul, and partly to hoodwink her companions. In- 
stead of jeering as usual at his song, she begged him to 
sing another. She consented afterwards to dance with 
him, and when it was over, strolled away with him into 
a thicket of wild roses. Suddenly Panass bent his dark 
face to hers and kissed her lips. Halya, in a frenzy of 
disgust and anger gave him a slap in the face, which al- 
most made him stagger. 

** Good Lord ! ” he cried, after a short pause, striving 
to speak playfully, though tears of pain filled his eyes, 
** if you have such a heavy hand after we are married, 
you will be the worse for it. How could this little hand 
deal such a stroke ? ” 

Halya was vexed beyond the power of speech. Vexed 
with herself for being there ; vexed with Paul, who had 
forsaken her ; vexed above all with Panass for the offen- 
sive liberty he had taken. Oh ! if she had only gone in 
home, when she left Paul. But Panass could not boast 
of the kiss he had taken. Silently they went back to 
the guests, who were still amusing themselves in the 
moonlight. 

Panass bade Yarina good-night in a sulky manner, and 
took himself away. Halya was only too glad to stay be- 
hind, and left almost the last. Yarina kissed her at 

parting, and said with a smile 

Don’t be too scornful with Panass. Your father 
will never let you marry a Stundist ; and Panass is the 
next most desirable match. He has four yoke of oxen, 
many sheep and mares, and a large house ; and his 
father will leave him a lot of money. And besides, he 
is a handsome man to look at. I’m right; isn’t it 
so? ” she added, speaking to some girls who were stand- 


44 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


ing round them. The girls tittered ; some of them with 
envy of Halya’s chance. 

‘‘Well, then! take him,” she said, laughing, “you 
take him, Yarina, if you like him so much.” 

“Take care,” answered Yarina, “I am not too old. 
But don’t be angry afterwards.” 

“Oh, no! dearest,” cried Halya, “I can afford to 
lose him, if I did not lose you as my friend.” 

She went home sad and downhearted. Paul had for- 
saken her ; and she knew too well her father would 
never let her refuse Panass, with his oxen and herds, and 
his expectations from his father. 

“ Oh ! if Yarina could really help me ! ” she thought, 
“ if I could only vex Panass into seeking her for his 
wife ! ” 

Like Ooliana and Paul, she lay awake a great part of 
the night ; but at last sleep overpowered her, and when 
the dawn came, it shown upon her pretty girlish face, 
sleeping with a smile upon it. 


CHAPTER VI. 


LOUKYAN AT THE FAIR. 

‘^Paul,” said Ooliana, the next morning, after their 
brief prayers were ended, and they rose from their 
knees, “I forgot to tell you yesterday that Valerian 
Petrovitch came home a day or two ago. He is going 
to stay for a time at the old Ma^or House with his 
father. He just looked in for a minute yesterday ; just 
the same kind-hearted, free-spoken, friendly man he 
always was. They say he is very strange. He never 
goes to church ; and when he enters the poorest huts, he 
takes off his hat, and salutes every one, even the chil- 
dren. But he does not bow to the icons, or make the 
the sign of the cross. Is it possible he is one of us? ” 

Paul was fond of books, and did not confine his read- 
ing, as Ooliana did, to religious works. He knew these 
signs, among the upper classes did not at all imply that 
they had embraced the humble sect of Stundism. 

‘*No, mother,” he answered, I’m afraid it means 
that he has joined himself to the men who are opposing 
the Tzar; and we are warned against having anything 
to do with them. We are within our rights in joining 
the Mir, and helping to manage our own village affairs. 
But you know the Stundists are bound to shun all men, 
who rebel against the powers that be.” 

*‘It is a pity,” said Ooliana, “Valerian visits the 
sick, and will not take any pay. He called about little 
Ivan, who is ill with fever, and told me what more to do 
45 


46 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


for the child. He is very clever and learned ; and he 
promises me he will teach me all he knows about illness 
before he goes away. Do you think a man who loves 
his neighbour as Valerian does, is not sure to love God 
also?” 

‘^It seems as if that must be so,” said Paul mus- 
ingly. 

‘‘If you would only talk with him!” suggested 
Ooliana, with the sanguine hope of a true proselytiser. 

“ Me I mother,” he said, “ me 1 Why ! he is a very 
learned man; and I know almost nothing. He has 
been travelling all over the world the last three years ; 
and I have never been farther than Kovylsk. I could 
not argue with him.” 

“Ah I Paul,” she answered, “ but our wisdom is not 
of this world ; it is the hidden wisdom of God, which 
none of the princes of this world knew, or they would 
not have slain the Lord of Glory. But I have known 
Valerian from his birth ; and I will speak to him my- 
self.” 

Soon afterwards, when their breakfast was eaten, 
Paul started off to see Loukyan, to whom he was eager 
to impart the events of the night before, especially the 
oracular message from the Bible, which seemed to assure 
him that Halya would certainly become his wife. But 
when he reached Loukyan’ s dwelling he found the old 
man had started for Kovylsk before daybreak. 

Loukyan started on his journey in the exquisite cool- 
ness of a summer’s night, half an hour before the dawn. 
It was between twenty and thirty versts to Kovylsk, and 
his old mare, as dear to him as a friend, could not be 
made to go more quickly than a slow jog-trot. Lou- 
kyan’s soul was full of exceeding peace ; and the stillness 


LOUKYAN AT THE FAIR. 


47 


and silence of the sleeping land responded to it. He 
drove slowly along the rough roads, singing hymns, 
from time to time, as if he must give outer expression 
of his inner gladness. A fair was being held at Kovylsk, 
and this circumstance, and a few jars of honey stowed 
at the back of his rude cart, were a splendid pretext for 
a visit to the brethren there. It was far too hot to carry 
wax, and the honey was scarcely at its best ; but then no 
one would suspect that he was going on any other errand 
than to sell it. It was an innocent subterfuge, which 
did not in the least disturb his simple conscience. 

Kovylsk was the govermental town. Here was the 
Governor’s residence. Here also were the courts of 
law, the police offices, the prison — all the panoply of 
rule and justice. Loukyan nodded, with a smile on his 
face, to the grim jail, where he had spent six not un- 
happy months. The streets were familiar to him ; but, 
as is usual with people coming from the country, the 
constant passing to and fro of pedestrians, and the num- 
ber of conveyances through which he had to guide his 
old mare, made him glad when he reached his inn. 

They knew him well, as he was in the habit of put- 
ting up there two or three times a year. In fact, Mi- 
trevna, the innkeeper’s wife, was a woman from Knishi, 
and always had a long gossip with Loukyan. It was 
already late ; and he went to bed, without attempting to 
see any of the brethren. 

There were more Stundists than the authorities 
dreamed of in Kovylsk. They had not ventured, un- 
der the immediate shadow of the Governor, to have any 
stated meeting-place. But about two versts from the 
town, the reeds and sedges by the riverside afforded 
them many a safe spot for worship during fine weather. 


48 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


In the winter they met indoors, in small detached 
parties, which were too insignificant to attract attention. 
They were learning to be as wise as serpents ; whilst 
their tenet of non-resistance made them as harmless as 
doves. 

Loukyan was a great favourite among the Stundists of 
Kovylsk. He possessed an extraordinary gift for ex- 
pounding the Scripture, with a spiritual insight which 
enabled him boldly to strip off the outer husk of some 
knotty question and elicit the inner truth. He set him- 
self strongly against any disputation or controversial 
question, often quoting Paul the Apostle’s advice to 
Timothy: Neither give heed to fables, and endless 

genealogies, which minister questions, rather than godly 
edifying which is in faith.” Or again : O Timothy, 

keep that which is committed to thy trust, avoiding pro- 
fane and vain babblings and oppositions of science, 
falsely so called : which some professing have erred from 
the faith.” There was great loss of time, he urged, in 
discussing doubtful points. It was as if soldiers, in the 
storm and stress of battle, began to wrangle about their 
colours. They were on the battlefield, fighting against 
sin, the world, and the devil. When they had won the 
victory they would settle these minor matters. 

To Loukyan’s great sorrow and dismay, a day or two 
after his arrival, his old mare was stolen from the inn 
stable. He loved it with a real and deep affection, and 
feared that it must have fallen into bad hands. But it 
was the sin which troubled Loukyan most. Theft is not 
a common crime in a small country village, where 
everybody knows his neighbour’s property almost as 
well as his own ; and this was the first time that the sin 
of stealing had been brought closely home to him. He 


LOUKYAN AT THE FAIR. 


49 

mourned over the thief, and prayed for him as if he 
was a brother. 

But he could not return to Knishi and take his cart 
with him on foot. There was nothing for it but to 
write to his nephew, Demyan, and bid him borrow a 
horse from Paul, and come over to fetch him. 

Loukyan carried his jars of honey to the fair, and 
soon sold them at a good price, for several of the trades- 
people, not themselves Stundists, had sympathised 
strongly with him in his imprisonment some time be- 
fore. There was something so genial, so straightfor- 
ward, and so wise about the old man, peasant though 
he was, which attracted the trust and affection of all 
who came into contact with him. 

All the honey disposed of, Loukyan strolled about the 
streets, with nothing to do but to dwell on the sinful- 
ness of sin, as exemplified in the case of the thief, who 
had stolen his old mare. On every hand he saw stores 
upon stores of goods; wares brought to the fair for 
sale ; anything that could feed the vanity of the buyer 
and bring a profit to the seller. There was not a want 
of the body that did not on these stalls, and in these 
shops, meet with a supply. *‘But what about the im- 
mortal soul? ” said Loukyan to himself ; is it possible 
that all these crowds of men like myself are mere an- 
imals, caring for nothing but meat and drink and cloth- 
ing ? Do they never feel there is something more? ” 

Just then, in a corner of a square in front of one of 
the churches, he caught sight of a little stall, covered 
and roofed in like a tent. All across the front, hanging 
on an iron rod, were a number of small and cheap 
icons; whikst inside were a few larger and handsomer 
ones, worth three or four roubles apiece. 


50 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

‘<That is to satisfy the immortal soul!” thought 
Loukyan, drawing slowly nearer and pausing before the 
entrance. The wooden panels, on which the sacred 
images were painted, were easily set in motion, and 
swung to and fro as he touched one of them gently. 
There were, as usual, the conventional faces of the 
Saviour, the Virgin, God the Father, and a few of the 
principal saints. A young man was sitting inside the 
tent — a fair-haired, dreamy-eyed man, who noticed at 
once that Loukyan did not cross himself or salute the 
icons. 

*‘You sell icons?” said Loukyan, after the ordinary 
greeting had passed between them. He used the word 
*‘seH” purposely, because it is considered irreverent to 
sell icons ; they are always exchanged for the price de- 
manded. The young man flushed angrily. 

‘‘ We don’t sell the sacred images,” he replied. An 
old man like you ought to know that is not the way to 
speak about them. I can barter with you.” 

Excuse me,” said Loukyan mildly ; but what do 
you barter them for ? ” 

*‘For kopecks and roubles,” he answered. 

‘^Then what is the difference?” asked Loukyan. 
“You don’t deceive me. Do you think you deceive 
God?” 

“ Why do you play the fool ? ” he replied ; “if you 
wish to barter, look round my stall, and choose what 
you like. If you have wares to exchange, begone, for 
I have no time to lose.” 

Loukyan looked for a moment at him with his gentle 
yet penetrating gaze ; and the young man’s eyes fell be- 
fore him. He had been rude, and he confessed it, 
though no word was spoken. Loukyan laid all the 


LOUKYAN AT THE FAIR. 


51 


money he had about him on the counter — notes, roubles, 
and kopecks. “ There is all the money I have,” he 
said, “ and if you have need of it, my brother, take as 
much as you want. But as for your icons, I would not 
have them even if you gave them away for nothing. 
God is not like that. * No man hath seen God at any 
time; nor can see Him.’ The icons are false, and 
teach falsehoods.” 

Are you in your right mind ? ” exclaimed the icon- 
seller. 

“I certainly am; there is no doubt of that,” an- 
swered Loukyan. Do I look crazy ? ” 

But why then do you offer me all this money ? ” he 
asked — ‘‘ a heap of it ; and you will take nothing for it. 
Suppose I take you at your word ? ” 

I shall be content,” replied Loukyan. “ I suppose 
you sell icons to get your living. Give up selling them, 
and live on this money till you have found something 
else to do. God gave it to me, and He can give me as 
much more as I want.”- 

The youx.^ nan picked up the money, weighed it in 
his hand awhile and then, with a smile, put it back into 
Loukyan's purse, and returned it to him. 

I don’t want another man’s property,” he said, 
‘‘yet I see I am welcome to it. What kind of a man 
are you ? and where do you come from. I have lived 
in Moscow, and seen thousands of people ; but never 
one like you. Come and sit down beside me, if you 
can spare the time, and tell me why you call the icons 
of the holy saints false ? My name is Stepan ; and I 
come, as I said, from Moscow.” 

For two or three hours Loukyan explained to him the 
doctrines of the Stundists as to icons, and the priest- 


52 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


hood, and the Church. Stepan listened with eager and 
intelligent attention. 

“ This cannot be settled all at once,” he said, ‘Mt is 
too great a thing. Lend me your Testament, and I will 
examine into it thoroughly. To-morrow come here, or 
rather come to the inn where I put up.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


AN ICONOCLAST. 

Early the next morning Loukyan set off to find 
Stepan. It was not far to his inn, and Loukyan, seeing 
a group of people gaping and staring at something which 
was going on in the inn-yard, turned to join them. It 
was a strange scene. 

Stepan was standing in the midst, with an axe in his 
hand, striking with great strength and fury on an icon 
with a silvered frame. Splinters of coloured and gilded 
wood, on which the sacred pictures had been painted, 
lay all around him in a glittering pile. He was not 
heeding any of the spectators; but, with the concen- 
trated scorn of a true iconoclast on his face, he was 
shivering the icons to fragments, and uttering words of 
contempt against himself. 

** Fool that I was ! a fool and blind ! ” he ejaculated, 
in short interrupted cries, to live by idols ! To make 
them and sell them ! To call them gods, and bow 
down to them ! ” 

Loukyan stood transfixed in silent astonishment and 
admiration at the man’s courage. True the bystanders, 
who had just turned out of the inn, were not devout 
members of the Orthodox Church. The landlord, 
Isaacke the Jew, was looking on with secret sympathy, 
but in abject terror lest the police should hear the noise, 
and make him responsible for the sacrilege. There were 
severe penal laws dealing with crimes against icons. 
53 


54 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


Only to speak disrespectfully against them was punish- 
able with from eight months to three years’ imprison- 
ment ; and wilfully to destroy one was visited by exile 
to Siberia for life. 

*‘Oh! the poor man is mad, stark mad!” cried 
Isaacke, from time to time; “see! the beautiful, holy 
icons I Worth a pile of roubles ! Only a raving mad- 
man could act like this 1 ” 

Stepan had been breaking up the last icon when 
Loukyan entered the yard ; and now he drew himself 
up to his full height, facing the circle with a gaze full of 
resolute courage, mingled with compassion. He lifted 
up his face, and stretched out his arms towards the blue 
sky above him. “ Great God in heaven 1 ” he cried, 
‘ ‘ forgive me ; I was ignorant as a beast before thee 1 
Forgive them ! for they know no better than I did 1 ” 

Loukyan stepped forward, and laid his hand on 
Stepan’s shoulder, gazing into his face with tears in his 
eyes. 

** Brother ! ” he said, come away with me, and let 
us have a quiet talk together. Landlord, have you a 
room where we can be alone ? ” 

“Yes, yes,” Isaacke answered eagerly. “Oh! he’s 
mad, you know,” he added to the bystanders, “and 
this good man is his brother. He will take care of him. 
Come in, all of you, and have a glass or two of vodka ; 
my best ! And let us wink at this. My house is re- 
spectable ; we never have a row with the police. Come 
in ! come in ! ” 

He shut Loukyan and Stepan up in a private room of 
his own, and served out his best vodka with many a 
heart-pang; but then what would it cost him if the 
police found out that holy icons had been destroyed in 


AN ICONOCLAST. 


55 


his yard? He had every trace of the catastrophe re- 
moved ; no splinter an inch in size was left to betray it ; 
and as soon as possible he must get Loukyan and Stepan 
off his premises. 

They were deep in conversation upon the tenets of the 
Stundists, when Isaacke interrupted it with an agonised 
appeal to them that they would relieve him from their 
dangerous presence. He was in a terrible quandary, not 
knowing whether it was the better plan to trust to his 
guests to forget the occurrence, or to report it himself to 
the police, which must involve him in great trouble and 
expense. If Loukyan would take Stepan away, he 
would do nothing, and take the chance of nothing com- 
ing of it. 

Stepan had made a sacrifice of all his worldly goods ; 
and he had not more money than would last him for a 
few months, until he could fit himself to earn his living 
in some other way. Loukyan took him to one of the 
leading Stundists, a corn-dealer ; and left him there to 
return home to Knishi, with Demyan, who had arrived 
with Paul’s horse late the night before. 

They reached home early in the morning ; and as it 
was already daylight, and soon the whole world would 
be astir, especially Ivan, Demyan’s little son three years 
of age, there was not much chance of sleep. They lay 
down to rest awhile on the wooden bench, which ran 
around the sides of the larger of the two rooms, which 
formed the whole of their dwelling. They could hear 
the breathing of Ivan and his mother, as they lay sleep- 
ing in the inner room. 

“Demyan ! ” said Loukyan, “ Stepan’s another man 
who would die, or go into exile for the Lord’s sake.” 


S6 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


Ay ! there are a few of us,” he answered, somewhat 
sleepily. 

“A godly seed!” said Loukyan, “and it will be 
scattered here and there, and fall upon good ground, and 
bring forth some fiftyfold, and some a hundredfold. 
Stepan will bring a good harvest to his Lord.” 

Demyan did not reply. He was ready to die for 
Christ ; but he was not a man of ready tongue, and he 
had no learning. It had been with difficulty that he 
had learned to read ; a duty earnestly impressed on every 
Stundisl, that they may for themselves search the Scrip- 
tures. There were moments when Demyan was sorely 
tempted to envy the richer gifts of men like Loukyan, 
Paul, and Stepan. But he was a simple soul, and he 
contented himself with saying in a whisper, “Lord, 
Thou knowest all things. Thou knowest that I love 
Thee.” These words were the anchor of his soul. 

After a short rest the men roused themselves, and 
Demyan went off to his work with the village black- 
smith, whilst Loukyan visited his numerous bee-hives, 
which stood in a regular row along the top of his large 
garden. The open steppe lay beyond, thickly covered 
with flowers of all kinds ; and the laborious bees were 
killing themselves, like city men of business, in a head- 
long, unintermitting chase after the wealth that lay close 
at hand. Loukyan was obliged to take away the fresh 
honey every few days. He had now been away several 
days, and there was an accumulation of spoil. The bees 
hummed and buzzed about him, and settled in dozens 
upon his hands, which were uncovered, though he had 
protected his head and face with a gauze veil ; but not 
one stung him. 

Presently Paul opened the wicket-gate, and entered 


AN ICONOCLAST. 


57 


the garden, standing at a safe distance from the hustling, 
hissing swarm that from time to time almost hid Loukyan 
from sight. Loukyan had slightly smoked them with a 
bit of burning hemp; and they were whirling giddily 
about in the air, and humming dismally, as if complain- 
ing of being disturbed and robbed of the wealth they 
had so greedily gathered. Loukyan spoke to them now 
and then, as if they could understand him. 

** What do you make such a trouble about?” he 
asked; ^‘your hives are too full already. You are like 
the rich man who was going to pull down his barns, and 
build greater. I am doing you a service, if you only 
knew it. One hive can only hold as much as it can ; 
the rest is lost.” 

He turned to watch a dense swarm that had fled off 
to a wild cherry tree; and then he perceived Paul. His 
withered face lit up with a smile of love and welcome. 

Good morning ! ” he said ; Pm glad to see you 
so soon. There is so much to tell you. That is why I 
asked Demyan to send you word we were back again.” 

And I was glad to come on my own account,” re- 
plied Paul; have wanted you so much.” 

‘‘What is the matter? Has anything happened to 
your mother? ” asked Loukyan in alarm. 

“No, no! Only myself,” he answered. “ I want 
your advice.” 

“ By-and-bye,” said Loukyan; “only let me take 
the honeycomb out of this last hive.” 

He opened the hive, and with a skilful hand broke 
off* as much comb as was desirable. He placed it with 
the rest, which he had collected in a large jar ; and then 
directed his steps towards the house. A few bees fol- 
lowed them all the way, protesting angrily. 


58 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


away, you foolish beasts,” said Loiikyan, 
laughing; <*go and heap up riches, and others shall 
gather them.” 

The cottage was both smaller and much poorer than 
Paul’s homestead ; and the cattle-sheds were fewer. 
The furniture was of plain deal, and worth little ; and 
there were no pictures on the walls. The cooking 
utensils consisted of a few earthern pots, one or two of 
which were cracked, and rudely mended with strips of 
canvas, as if there was not a kopeck to spare for buying 
new. There was no doubt Loukyan was quite a poor 
man ; and perhaps rather improvident, for had he not 
offered Stepan every kopeck he possessed ? But the floor 
was well swept, and the table dusted, and all the furni- 
ture clean. And in the chief place, where the icons 
formerly filled the place of honour, there was a shelf filled 
with books — more even than those possessed by Father 
Vasili. Demyan’s wife was sitting by the great Russian 
stove, rocking a cradle with her foot. She was a young 
woman, with a round face, a snub nose, and with dense 
black eye-brows, which met across her nose, and gave 
her an oddly morose expression. She arose and greeted 
Paul with great respect. 

Here is the fresh honey, Paraska,” said Loukyan ; 

put it in a new jar, and bring us a morsel to taste. I 
will look after the child.” 

In low tones, and with great delight, Loukyan told 
Paul the story of Stepan and the risks they had both run 
in Kovylsk. But he spoke very cautiously, and when 
they heard Paraska’s step, he stopped abruptly. 

Not a word to her,” he whispered. 

Paraska was devoted to Loukyan with her utmost soul, 
just as her husband was. But being a woman of com- 


AN ICONOCLAST. 


59 


mon-sense, as she said, she did not always approve of 
what they did. There was no need to give away every- 
thing, as they would do if she did not look after them. 
And as for running into mischief and danger as they did, 
they ought sometimes to think of her and the baby. 
Loukyan was a little afraid of her. 

She brought in a piece of honeycomb on a wooden 
platter, and a cake of new bread, and laid them on the 
table with the demure expression of a woman who knows 
how to behave properly when strangers are present. 

** Paraska, it is beautiful honey,” said Loukyan in a 
conciliatory tone ; “ better than last year.” 

Oh ! the is all right,” she answered with 

half-conscious sarcasm. She went to the cradle. The 
baby slept quietly, with its little arms stretched out, and 
its soft, toothless mouth open. She threw a cover over 
it, to protect it from the flies, and went away again. 

“ I shall have a good scolding from her,” said Loukyan, 

about my poor old mare. And it would be worse if 
she knew about Stepan. He is coming to visit us by- 
and-bye ; and as he is a man of some learning, he will 
probably be made a deacon. But my successor is al- 
ready here,” he added, gazing affectionately on Paul. 

In low tones as before Paul confided to him all that 
had passed between Halya and himself, and the curious 
result of his appeal to the Bible for direction. 

Loukyan listened with profound interest. 

Do not let your heart be troubled,” he said. “ She 
will join us, and you will marry her. This love is a 
great mystery; it comes from God, and ought to lead us 
to Him.” 

‘‘But the match-makers are going to Karpo this very 
day ! ” cried Paul. 


6o 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


“ From Panass ? ” 

Paul nodded, too miserable to speak. There was no 
other rival he dreaded. 

“ She will not marry him,” said Loukyan, looking at 
him with his kind, keen gaze. “ If God wills it, man 
can do nothing. To be sure, no priest would marry 
you ; but I know a German minister in the government 
of Kherson, who comes sometimes to Kovylsk, and he 
would do it for you.” 

For a moment Paul looked happy ; but it was only 
for a moment. 

“ Halya would never consent to it,” he said. 

“ Then it may be there is no way out of your trouble,” 
replied Loukyan after a pause. “ This is the cross your 
Lord calls upon you to bear after Him. Bear it bravely. 
Great troubles lie before us. Remember what the 
Apostle says about this very point. I suppose, there- 
fore, that this is good for the present distress, I say that 
it is good for a man so to be. * Art thou bound unto a 
wife ? seek not to be loosed. Art thou loosed from a 
wife? seek not a wife.’ Alas ! the father and the 
husband will have bitter sorrows in the days at hand.” 

But Paul was too young, and he had loved Halya too 
long, and too much to take any comfort from the 
thought that he might, at some future day, be glad that 
her lot was not linked with his own. There was a low, 
distant howl of persecution, as of a wolf; but the wolf 
had not come to the door as yet. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


FATHER VASILI. 

The busiest time of the year was come, and every 
man and woman was toiling incessantly over gathering 
in the harvest. There was a constant going to and fro, 
and all the population of Knishi lived out of doors. 
Scarcely a day passed without Paul seeing Halya ; but 
she was never alone, and she gave him no opportunity 
of speaking to her. Very often Panass was at her side, 
and her troubled and downcast face was as much averted 
from him as from Paul. This was the only consolation 
Paul had. He could have given up Halya — he had 
truly the spirit of a martyr, ready to sacrifice all for his 
religion ; but he firmly believed, since his appeal to the 
Scriptures, that Halya was destined to be his wife. It 
was not, therefore, necessary to tear her from his heart ; 
on the contrary, he must adopt every means to win her 
to himself. 

Once he met her in the little village shop, whither he 
had gone to buy salt ; but Panass was there also, and 
walked home with her, and stayed a long time at the 
gate talking with her, until Paul was well on the way 
home. 

The next time he saw her he was driving a hay-cart 
from a meadow he owned near Knishi, and she was at 
the village well with the other girls, who had brought 
their cattle to drink from the long wooden trough made 
of the hollow trunk of an oak. He went at once to 
water his horses, and to help Halya with the oxen. 

6i 


62 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


Good-day, Halya ! ” he said. 

It was the first time they had spoken to one another 
since that moon-lit evening when she had run after him 
to beseech him to remain an orthodox Churchman until 
after they were married. 

‘‘ Good-day to you,” she answered listlessly, and 
scarcely looking at him. She did not seem glad to see 
him, nor was she offended. She seemed to be in ut- 
terly low spirits. 

Are you still angry with me ? ” whispered Paul. 

She did not reply, but lifting up her large grey eyes, 
dim with tears, she looked at him in a hopeless way, as 
if to ask, ‘^What good would it do to be angry? 
Would that mend matters ? ” 

This childish, hopeless look on her beloved face quite 
upset Paul. He must see her again, and soon. He 
must convince her, as he was convinced himself, that it 
was God’s will she should be his wife. But there was 
no chance of arranging anything there, at the well. A 
whole herd of calves rushed to the trough, pushing away 
at Halya’s patient and slow oxen, which were just be- 
ginning to drink. It was as much as they both could do 
to protect the cattle, and as soon as they had finished 
Halya drove them homewards, with listless step and 
drooping head — never even turning her head to give a 
glance to Paul. 

It had become absolutely necessary to see Halya alone 
— to tell her all that had passed in his own mind, and 
the assurance he had received that they were destined 
for each other. There could be no power in her father 
and Panass against the will of God. Should he tell her 
of Loukyan’s plan of their being married by a German 
pastor? It would shock her at first — shock her tre- 


FATHER VASILI. 


63 


mendously. But for himself, the more he thought of it 
the more feasible the project appeared, if only Halya 
consented to it. 

The stress of harvest at last came to an end, and the 
community could turn their attention to matters of less 
moment. Paul, somewhat weary with a long spell of 
the hardest labour, went to visit his wicker fish-pots, 
which he had sunk in the river the night before. All at 
once he saw a band of girls coming along the banks from 
the washing-place ; for the washing had been neglected 
during the harvest. They all carried a yoke with the 
dripping linen hung across each end, watering the ground 
as they marched along. Halya was the last of the little 
procession, and her load seemed the heaviest. She 
loitered a little, and let her companions get ahead of 
her, but she did not stop altogether or lay down her 
heavily-laden yoke, as she would have done in olden 
days. Her face was full of gloom, amounting almost to 
despair. Paul’s heart ached for her. 

<*Come to the water-mill to-night,” said Paul hur- 
riedly. 

Halya hesitated. 

** What for? ” she asked, almost inaudibly. 

‘‘I have something important to tell you,” he said 
entreatingly. “ Do come.” 

** Well, I will come,” she said, in a reluctant tone, 
and hastening her steps to rejoin her companions. 

Paul went on his way exulting, happier than he had 
been for weeks. It was nearing mid-day, and he had 
still some distance to go up the stream ; for his fish-pots 
were sunk in a quiet spot, removed from the noise of the 
village, in a long, tranquil reach of the river which the 
fish loved to frequent. The rustling sedges grew thickly 


64 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


along the margin, and Paul pushed his way through 
them towards a little hillock which, even in the spring 
floods, was rarely covered with water. Taking off his 
boots, he waded cautiously across to his three fish-pots, 
the rims of which were just visible on the surface. 

It was a good haul. Paul pulled up the fish-pots to 
dry in the sun till night, and loaded his creel with the 
fish, which were all alive; then, putting on his boots, he 
hastened home, drops of water rolling in copious streams 
down his blue linen shirt. 

Ostron could be reached by pursuing the river bank 
and passing through a wood ; but Paul resolved to return 
through Knishi, and by a short cut running behind the 
church. There was a chance of catching a passing 
glimpse of Halya. 

But Paul had scarcely entered the village when he saw 
the fat, squat figure of Father Vasili in a dirty cassock 
and a worn-out felt hat with a broad brim. His first 
thought was how to avoid him, for of late Father Vasili 
had been anything but a pleasant acquaintance. He re- 
garded Loukyan and Paul with far less favour or forbear- 
ance than the worst drunkard in the parish. But it was 
too late to escape. 

What are you trying to run away for?” roared 
Father Vasili. ** Ah ! you have a bad conscience, one 
sees that with half an eye. But come along here. I 
have wanted to have a long talk with you all this harvest 
time.” 

It was impossible to avoid the interview, and Paul 
drew nearer, with one of his most respectful salutations. 
Father Vasili was an old-fashioned priest ; good-natured 
on the whole, but coarse and ignorant. He had forgot- 
ten long ago the little and useless theology he had ever 


FATHER VASILI. 


6S 


learned, and had devoted himself to the more profitable 
craft of husbandry. But for his cassock, and his long 
clerical hair and beard, he would not have been distin- 
guishable from an ordinary peasant. 

Come ! come ! ” he cried, in a thick voice, ** what 
are you thinking of? Now, now! you can’t go on 
playing the rebel. Eh ? ” 

Father Vasili paused for a reply, as if he had uttered 
a most convincing argument. 

am not a rebel, father,” answered Paul, with a 

smile. 

Not a rebel ! good Lord 1 ” ejaculated the priest; 
“why, why I you leave off coming to church, you do 
not take the sacrament, and you never come to confes- 
sion. It’s the worst sort of rebellion ; rebelling against 
me, and the Holy Church, and the Tzar himself. You’ll 
get punishment enough here, and in the world to come 
you’ll be thrown into boiling caldrons, and have to lick 
red hot frying-pans for ever and ever and ever. Think 
over that, you scoundrel ! ” 

“ God is very merciful,” answered Paul, “and if you 
pray for me ” 

“ Pray for you ! ” interrupted Father Vasili scornfully. 
“ Pray for you ! Why on earth should I pray for you 
when you never pay me a kopeck for my prayers ? Rep- 
robates as you are ! Your priest might starve to death 

f f 

“ No, no, father ! ” cried Paul, in his turn, who knew 
of the large gifts his mother continued to send to her old 
priest. Father Vasili collected himself a little, for he 
did not wish to lose these welcome presents by mistimed 
reproaches. 

“Well, well!” he said, “but I have to answer for 


66 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


you. How am I to leave out your name when I send up 
a list of all who have been to confession to the bishop ? He 
has noticed your name, Paul. And now you have not 
been to confession for a whole year.” 

“ No ; we confess our sins to God Himself, and to 
Him alone,” replied Paul. 

“ Oh ! what horrible blasphemy ! ” exclaimed the 
priest, “ the great Almighty God, with all the angels and 
archangels and holy saints around His throne. Will he 
hear a poor ignorant peasant like you ? Confess to God ! ” 
he added with a sneer of mingled contempt and aston- 
ishment. 

Paul was silent. He had no wish to enter into any dis- 
cussion with Father Vasili, for he wanted to get home. 

Confess yourself frequently to the priest, say the 
Scriptures,” pursued Father Vasili, in a loud, domineer- 
ing voice, and bring forth fruits meet for repentance 


Fruits ! I’m willing enough to bring them,” said 
Paul, with a touch of boyish humour. “ We have some 
fine melons in our garden ; as soon as they are ripe, you 
shall have some.” 

Well, well ! I know you are not close-fisted,” an- 
swered the priest, unconscious of the slight irony of Paul’s 
speech, “ I can’t complain of any of you Stundists. 
But I give you warning. You must not set your heart on 
Halya, Karpo’s girl. She must marry a good Christian, 
and Panass shall be the man. It is all but settled. The 
match-makers are going there in a day or two, now the 
harvest is over.” 

And what will become of poor Yarina?” asked 
Paul. 

The priest started. Yarina — he had forgotten her. 


FATHER VASILI. 


67 


Yarina, who, next to Ooliana, had been his best parish- 
ioner ; open-handed, pleasant-spoken, constantly requir- 
ing his services, for which she paid him handsomely, to 
bless her house and fields. If she cared for Panass, he 
had been guilty of a terrible blunder in promoting his 
marriage with Halya, who would be a most reluctant 
bride, as everybody knew. His perturbation was ex- 
treme, and Paul watched him with mischievous delight. 

“What have you in your creel ?” inquired Father 
Vasili, to change the conversation. Paul opened it, and 
showed the fish still alive. 

“ Ah ! delicious ! ” said Father Vasili, “ and it is just 
Friday to-day ; and mother is so fond of new-caught 
fish. You heretics gobble up flesh-meat every day of 
the week, the devil take you ! You could have done 
well without fish if God Almighty had not made any. 
But what should we do on Fridays without them? ” 

“I will carry some up to Matoushka,” said Paul, a 
little sadly. 

“That’s right,” answered the priest, “and I’ll put 
your name down this time in the list I send up to the 
bishop, so he shall not miss it. I don’t want any dis- 
turbance in my parish, if I only get my dues. The sex- 
ton will be calling for the tithes, and it has been a good 
harvest ; if you and your reprobate gang would only 
send double measure you should be left at peace for me. 
There is no getting a farthing from you for my ministra- 
tions; so you owe me double dues.” 

“I will tell them,” said Paul ; “ but why do you call us 
such bad names ? ^ A gang of reprobates ! ” 

“ How touchy you are ! ” exclaimed Father Vasili, in 
surprise. “ Hard words break no bones. There is no 
getting on without using strong language.” 


68 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


They soon reached the forecourt of the priest’s dwell- 
ing ; and the Matoiishka, in a green dress, a large blue 
apron, with a beaming smile on her round, flat face, re- 
ceived Paul’s offering of live fish with delight, and 
wanted to bring him a glass of vodka. 

“No thank you, Matoushka ! ” he answered; whilst 
the priest’s face assumed an expression of contemptuous 
pity. 

“Their crazy heads won’t stand it, the fools!” he 
exclaimed involuntarily ; and then looking at Paul he 
added, “ well ! well I I meant no harm.” He accom- 
panied Paul back to the gate. 

“ Take care you don’t go deeper into the mud,” he 
said ; “ there’s a man who would help me against all of 
you if I lifted up a little finger.” 

He pointed to the house where the starosta Savely 
lived ; and then with his heavy, shambling gait, moved 
off to the kitchen, where Matoushka was already busy 
with the fish. 


CHAPTER IX. 


STRONGLY TEMPTED. 

Paul was early at his trysting-place at the water-mill, 
and waited anxiously for Halya. It was again a moon- 
light night, but the brilliance and warmth of midsummer 
was gone ; and a touch of chill, foreboding winter by- 
and-by, was in the night air. The grain was gone from 
the fields, where it had been waving in rich abundance 
a short time ago ; and the rough stubble shone yellow 
in the moonlight. There was a long stretch of river 
here ; and the water just above the mill lay twinkling 
with moonlit streaks. The whole place seemed asleep ; 
but at last soft voices broke the stillness, and two slight, 
dark figures came across the bare fields behind the mill. 
Halya was not alone ! 

But before she reached the shadow of the wall, which 
concealed him, her companion went on alone along the 
river bank. Paul drew Halya to him ; and for a moment 
they stood, face to face, and mouth to mouth, in a more 
passionate embrace than they had ever dreamed of. 
Halya’s round arms, beautiful and strong, strained him 
to her for an instant ; then fell despairingly to her sides. 
She wrenched herself away from his grasp, and sat down 
under the wall in a passion of tears. 

‘^My darling ! ” cried Paul, throwing himself on the 
ground beside her. 

** Oh ! you are killing me ! ” she sobbed, ^^you and 
my father between you. Save me, Paul, save me ! They 
69 


70 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


are going to make me marry Panass. It would be kinder 
to shoot me dead. If you would only kill me with your 
own hand I would die gladly. But save me from Pan- 
ass ! ” 

Paul was deeply distressed. He hardly knew what to 
say to the weeping girl, whose sobs came thick and fast. 
At last she grew more calm. 

“ Listen ! my Halya,” he said ; my mother shall go 
to-morrow and make a definite proposal for you to your 
father. We are richer than Panass, and can give more 
dowry. Now my mother knows that God wills you to be 
my wife, and she is reconciled to it. Yes; she loves 
you, my Halya. We have never formally asked for you, 
and Karpo will be surprised at what we can give. Be- 
sides, what God wills must come to pass.” 

How do you know it is God’s will?” inquired 
Halya, in a hushed tone of awe and gladness. 

Then Paul, in many words, with interruptions of fond 
expressions, gave her an account of his appeal to the 
Bible for some clue to guide him in his perplexity about 
her and himself. Halya listened with intense interest. 

“ But I do not want to be a Stundist ! ” she objected, 
when Paul repeated : ‘ Thy people shall be my people, 

and thy God my God ! ’ 

‘‘ That must come if it is God’s will,” answered Paul ; 
and Halya was silenced. The thread of fatalism, woven 
into the religious and social belief of every Russian, was 
strong in her. What will be, must be,” she mur- 
mured. 

“ But, Paul,” she said, “ if father says I cannot marry 
you unless you are a true Christian, couldn’t you, just 
for a little while, come to church. Father Vasili would 
make it easy for you. If you just stood inside the poich. 


STRONGLY TEMPTED. 


71 


it would do. And we would hasten on our marriage, 
and then you could do as you chose, and me too.” 

It would have been a terrible temptation but for 
Paul’s conviction that God had willed Halya to be his 
wife, and that He would bring it about in His own 
way, and at His own time. Halya would be given to him, 
not to Panass, however things might seem to work 
against it. He pressed his lips tenderly on her bowed 
forehead. 

** My dearest,” he said, “if you were in a strange 
country, would you go and bow down before a dreadful 
idol, and pretend to worship it? ” 

“ Oh, no ! ” she answered, with a shudder. “ God 
would smite me dead ! ” 

“ He might not smite me dead if I went to church,” 
continued Paul; “ but I should say to Him plainly : * I 
know Thy laws and Thy commandments, and I will keep 
them when it is convenient to me. But I will disobey 
them if I am to lose anything by keeping them.’ Would 
that please God, my Halya? ” 

“ Oh, no ! ” she replied. 

“ And Jesus Christ, my Lord, says to my heart : * I 

died for thee ; what wilt thou do for Me ? ’ Can I say : 
‘ Lord, I must disobey Thee this once because Halya 
wishes it. We do not think Thou canst make us man 
and wife without my becoming a hypocrite.’ Would 
that please the Lord who was crucified for you and 
me? ” 

“ No, no ! ” she cried, with tears. 

“You will not marry Panass ! ” said Paul. 

“ No, my father shall kill me first,” she interrupted. 

“I meant you will marry me, not Panass,” he con- 
tinued ; “they may fight against God, but it will be of 


72 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


no use. My mother shall come to-morrow, and talk 
with your mother, and then we shall see what happens. 
Who knows ? We may be married very soon. We will 
make Father Vasili as good a present as if we were mar- 
ried at church.” 

“But where else could we be married?” asked 
Halya. 

Paul told her of Loukyan’s plan ; but this was not at 
all to Halya’s mind. She had always thought of the mar- 
riage service performed with all due ceremony at the vil- 
lage church, and the marriage feast afterwards in her 
father’s house. It was a depressing idea, this plan of 
Paul’s and Loukyan’s. However, the first preliminaries 
were not agreed to yet ; and, after a while, she bade 
Paul farewell, and hastened to rejoin her companion, 
who was motionlessly gazing at the river out of hearing. 
It was Yarina. 

“Well!” she said, half seriously, half laughingly; 
“does he consent to be a good Christian for your sake? 
You know if you marry Paul, I am sure of Panass, and 
I love him if you don’t. Thank God I every woman 
does not love the same man ! I’m longing to hear what 
Paul said.” 

“ I will never marry Pauass I ” exclaimed Halya. 

“ I’m glad to hear it,” answered Yarina; “but now 
we must run home. It is nearly midnight.” 

The next day Ooliana went to Knishi to pay a visit to 
Marfa, old Karpo’s wife. It was more than a year since 
she had been there ; though in former days she and 
Marfa had been close friends. They had been children 
and girls together; and they were married about the 
same time. Marfa had been with Ooliana when Paul 
was born ; and Ooliana had been the first to take Halya 


STRONGLY TEMPTED. 


73 


in her arms. They had nursed and tended the babies 
together, and scarcely a day passed without them seeing 
one another. But all that had changed since Ooliana 
became a Stundist. Old Karpo forbade any further in- 
tercourse. Ooliana opened her commission at once. 

“ Marfa,” she said, “ it was always in your mind and 
mine that our boy and girl should some day be man and 
wife. I know Karpo has reasons against it; but you tell 
him what I have to say. If he will consent to their 
marriage I am ready to give them every rouble I pos- 
sess ; and as you know, and he knows, they are a good 
few, thank God ! Old Okhrim cannot do a quarter like 
that for Panass. He has another child to provide for, 
and I have none but Paul.” 

“ But he must come back to church,” answered Marfa, 
though she was astounded at the magnitude of Ooliana’s 
■ offer. 

That he will never do ! ” she replied, *‘but he will 
not insist upon Halya becoming one of us. She shall 
worship God according to her own conscience. But 
Paul will some day be a great man among us. Valerian 
Petrovitch says so. Marfa, do your best to make our 
young folks happy.” 

“ If it only rested on me ! ” she said, with a sigh; 
‘‘you Stundists always seem so content and joyful! 
Your homes are so clean, and you grow pretty flowers 
under your windows. But there ! you all pull together; 
and the husband is as loving to his wife as on the day 
they were married. I should wish my Halya to have a 
husband to love her when she is old and ugly, like me.” 

“ Panass wouldn’t,” urged Ooliana. 

“ No, Panass wouldn’t,” she assented. 

Marfa, in much fear and trembling, laid Ooliana’s 


74 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


proposal before Karpo, after she had fed him with a 
supper he particularly relished. But he had only one 
ultimatum to offer; if Paul would reconcile himself to 
the Church, he might marry Halya ; if not she should 
be the wife of Panass. 

Father ! ” said Halya, creeping timidly to his side, 
and laying her pretty head on his shoulder, ‘‘why must 
I marry at all ? Are you tired of keeping me at home ? 
I’ll be very good, and please you all I can. Only let me 
stay here at home with you and mother.” 

Her voice died away in sobs. 

“No, no,” answered Karpo, half sternly, half jok- 
ingly, “I’ll not have my only girl live to be an old 
maid. Besides, I want to dandle my grandsons on my 
knee. A girl is only half a child. I shall look for some 
fine bold young urchins to make my old age glad.” 


CHAPTER X. 


MATCH-MAKING. 

General Nesteroff lived in the old Manor House, 
near Ostron. Since the emancipation of the serfs in 
1862 his income had dwindled year by year, through 
neglect and mismanagement. His mode of life was ex- 
tremely secluded and simple ; and he was all but a 
cipher in the district, where formerly his will was law. 
His two fashionable daughters in St. Petersburg drained 
him of any surplus money he might chance to have. 
His only son and heir, Valerian, had been travelling all 
over the world for the last three years, indulging the 
Russian passion of unrest, which took possession of the 
nation about the middle of the present century. 

Valerian returned from his travels a Propagandist pure 
and simple. He had studied in Western lands the vari- 
ous constitutions under which the nations lived and 
prospered ; and his heart burned within him as he 
thought of the condition of his beloved Russia. He was 
at home again among his father’s old serfs, who were in 
reality no more free than in the old times before the 
edict of Liberation. He had been mingling with them 
during their busy weeks of harvest, helping with his 
own hands and fully sharing their labours, whilst he 
carefully studied their various characters, in the hope of 
elevating them during the coming winter. Ooliana was 
one of his chief favourites ; but he had seen less of 
Loukyan and Paul than of any other of the peasants. 

75 


76 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


There was one man with whom Valerian could do 
nothing. This was old Okhrim, the father of Panass. 
In his youth he had been a famous reprobate, guilty of 
all sorts of misconduct, and a pest to the neighbour- 
hood ; but about twenty-five years ago he had suddenly 
amended his ways, and married a rich widow, who died 
a few years afterwards, leaving him his son Panass and a 
daughter, whom he had lately married. He was con- 
sidered one of the richest farmers in Knishi ; he was 
trading in cattle, and rented on lease from General 
Nesteroff water-melon beds in large quantities. 

Okhrim was still a strong and fine-looking man, with . 
bushy iron-grey hair, good features, and a bearing that was 
on the whole manly and impressive. He was a far better 
looking man than his son ; and he knew it. What rea- 
son was there against his marrying Yarina, when once 
Panass was settled? She was rich, but he was richer. 
True, she was twenty years younger than he ; but what 
was that ? There was not one of her many suitors who 
was a more likely man. At any rate, he would try his 
chance ; and Okhrim seldom failed in anything he at- 
tempted. 

The day after Halya had made her fruitless appeal to 
her father, old Okhrim went home early from his melon- 
beds, and ordered his servant to prepare him some din- 
ner instantly. He went into the closet where he kept a 
box containing all his best clothes, which seldom saw the 
light; and taking from it his almost new navy-blue coat, 
with bright metal buttons, and his best boots with red 
tops, he hastened to dress himself in holiday attire. 
Then pulling his new Astrachan cap well over his eyes, 
he went straight to old Karpo’s on a diplomatic visit. 

The dinner-table was not yet laid at Karpo’s house, 


MATCH-MAKING. 


77 


For Halya had been washing again in the river, and 
Marfa was very slow in all she did, and did not pay any 
heed to time, so that any other woman in Knishi would 
do more in one hour than she did in two. Halya was 
hurrying about the dinner, and looking at the potatoes in 
the oven, when suddenly, glancing through the window, 
she saw Okhrim, in his unusual holiday dress, coming 
through the fold-yard gate. Her heart sank within her. 

Father ! ” she cried, “ Okhrim is coming ! ” 

What a nuisance ! ” growled Karpo. “ Folks want 
their dinners; and he takes that moment to pay a visit.” 

But he went out to meet his guest with no trace of ir- 
ritability on his face. On the contrary, it beamed with 
hospitality and politeness. 

Well met ! ” he exclaimed. ‘‘ How do you do, 
Okhrim Moisevitch? Come in ! come in ! ” 

Thank you for your kindness,” Okhrim answered, 
bowing low. 

Thanks for yours in calling upon us,” responded 
Karpo, bowing lower. 

They entered the house, and Karpo seated his welcome 
guest in the seat of honour, near the icon, and placed 
himself on a wooden stool in front of him. His cu- 
riosity and his hopes were actively aroused. Okhrim, of 
course, had not come simply to make a call upon a neigh- 
bour. He would not have decked himself out for that. 

“Where does God bring you from?” asked Karpo, 
really meaning “ What are you come for? ” but so direct 
a question would be bad manners. 

“ I am going to see Father Vasili to pay him my dues ; 
and I want to bargain a little with him,” replied Okhrim, 
surveying his bright buttons and red boot-tops. 

“That’s a lie!” said Karpo to himself. “If you 


78 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


wanted to bargain with the priest you’d go in the evening 
when he is drunk ; but not at mid-day, when he is as 
keen as you are, and as hard as a flint.” 

He began talking of the crops, and the price of corn 
in the market, all the time watching his guest with his 
shrewd grey eyes. Halya opened the door, and stood 
timidly on the threshold. 

Mother says is she to set the dinner, or must we 
wait? ” she asked. 

Put the dinner ! ” growled Karpo; ‘ * everybody else 
has had it long ago ; and we haven’t yet begun. My 
old woman is like a lazy horse,” he said to Okhrim : 
“ she takes one step and then rests awhile. Halya is not 
like that ; but she has been washing all the morning.” 

Okhrim politely stood up, and made as if he was going 
away; but Karpo would not hear of it. If he would 
not sit down to dinner with them, he must at least wait 
and have some tea after dinner. Okhrim accepted the 
invitation, and sat down near the window, a little farther 
from the dinner-table. This was a sure proof that he had 
some purpose in coming. 

The meal was almost a silent one. Only Okhrim talked 
of the trickery of the village mayor, with whom he was 
not on friendly terms, as he wished to be mayor himself. 
Karpo and Marfa ate slowly and solemnly, whilst Halya 
served at the table, fetching the dishes from the oven, 
and now and then making a pretence of eating. But she 
could eat nothing ; she guessed too well why old Okh- 
rim had come. 

Karpo also was almost too excited to eat, though no 
one would have suspected it. He solemnly crossed the 
loaf with his knife every time he had to cut a slice, and 
solidly and sternly chewed his food with extreme delibera- 


MATCH-MAKING. 


79 


tion. His replies to Okhrim’s remarks were given in 
monosyllables, and were very judicious and guarded, for 
he had no quarrel himself with the mayor. At last the 
meal was ended. The women cleared the table, and 
placed upon it a boiling samovar, with tea and sugar, 
and then disappeared. They knew the old men did not 
wish them to be present. 

Mother, darling ! ” cried Halya, throwing her arms 
round Marfa’s neck, he is come after me ! He is go- 
ing to ask father for me ! ” 

‘‘ But what are you afraid of, my little girl ? ” asked 
her mother. It is time for you to marry. All your 
companions are married ; and you are not going to re- 
main an old maid surely ” 

Mother, mother ! don’t say that,” she interrupted; 
** that’s a hundred times better than marrying Pan ass ! 
Oh ! lam lost ! ” 

She was trembling from head to foot, and pressed her- 
self against her mother, as a lamb seeking refuge from a 
wolf. The mother stroked her fair head with her knotty 
and crooked fingers. 

God bless you, my child ! God bless you ! ” she re- 
peated ; ‘‘ it’s not Okhrim himself who wants to marry 
you.” 

Halya shook her head passionately, and burst into an 
agony of tears. 

My poor darling ! ” cried her mother, in a hopeless 
tone, What can I do? I can do you no good, or I’d 
go through fire and water .to do it.” 

^‘Mother, let me go out,” pleaded Halya, and if 
father asks for me say you’ve sent me to the shop, or the 
river, or anywhere else ” 

‘‘ Go, go ! dear child,” said Marfa hurriedly, “ I will 


8o 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


manage somehow. And if he gets very cross, I must 
bear it. Go, go ! It will be nothing, and you are my 
only one.” 

Halya vehemently embraced her mother, and slipped 
out through the garden into the neighbour’s yard, and so 
gained the street without being seen by either of the old 
men, who were discussing her fate. The poor mother 
sat for a long time on the turf-seat outside the house. 
Her hands lay listlessly on her lap, and from time to time 
she shook her grey head sorrowfully. She knew very 
well what it was to be compelled to marry by a father ; 
and she disliked old Okhrim and Panass. She knew 
them both to be of a hard and cruel nature. Oh ! if 
Paul had only remained orthodox ! How happy she and 
Halya would be now ! They had been very happy until 
the last few months; till the Stundists had destroyed all 
the peace and happiness of the place. But she could do 
absolutely nothing for her only child. She would have 
no voice in the match-making. It depended entirely on 
the two old men, whose voices she heard murmuring in 
low and cautious tones. 

Karpo and Okhrim were slowly sipping from their 
saucers some very weak tea, gently biting off from time 
to time minute bits of sugar, from the lumps provided 
for them. They drank for a long time in silence. To 
begin to talk at once would show that they did not ap- 
preciate the treat, and the solemnity of tea-drinking was 
not properly understood. It was Karpo who, as host, 
first broke the silence. 

“You have splendid water-melons this year, Okhrim 
Moisevitch,” he said ; “ some hundreds of silver roubles 
you will add to your store.” 

“ Don’t say that,” answered Okhrim, with a gratified 


MATCH-MAKING. 


8l 


smile, “I shall think myself lucky if I make both ends 
meet. But what land you have, Karpo Petrovitch ! 
There is your meadow lying close to my melon-beds — it 
is simply a treasure field ! Well, I thought, if that 
meadow could be got for my children, I should die a 
happy man ! ’ ’ 

Karpo pricked his ears. He expected after this pre- 
amble Okhrim would proceed to the object of his visit. 
But the old fox was too sly, and shuffled away from it 
quickly. 

‘‘Karpo Petrovitch!” he said, “what would you 
think if 1 ask you to sell me that meadow ! I can give 
as much for it as anybody else.” 

“ You don’t want to buy my meadow,” thought 
Karpo. But he did not show any sign of discomfiture ; 
and apparently taking the ofter seriously, he looked his 
guest straight in the face. 

“For you, Okhrim Moisevitch,” he answered, “I 
would part with it for five hundred roubles.” 

The price was ridiculously high, and they both knew 
it. Okhrim sighed and looked away. 

“ I must think it over,” he said ; and began to talk 
of the hard times, the difficulty of selling, and the fall- 
ing off in prices. Then he fell into a confidential tone, 
and complained of the neglect in his household, and the 
little help he received from his son, who was always run- 
ning after the girls, and leaving the work to chance. 

“ I want to get him married,” he said ; “that will 
sober him.” 

“ That is sensible,” answered Karpo coolly, as if the 
question did not concern him. “ From a wife one can- 
not run away. The girls would not look at him after he 


82 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


was married. They’d break his head with their distaffs, 
if he came pottering after them.” 

Karpo laughed heartily, shaking again with laughter, 
but never once losing sight of Okhrim’s face. 

“ Let your secret out of the bag, old fox,” was the 
meaning of his look. 

But Okhrim feigned not to understand anything, talk- 
ing as simply as a fool about his late wife and himself. 
Then he went back to the question of buying the 
meadow. Karpo grew a little puzzled. They bargained 
to and fro, and at last Okhrim said — 

Two hundred roubles, if you like.” 

It was almost as much as the land was worth, and 
Karpo felt sure now his only errand was to buy the 
meadow. He began to bargain seriously, and grew 
warm in the discussion. Suddenly Okhrim said, as if 
the idea had just struck him — 

** Do you know what I am thinking, neighbour? Let 
your Halya marry my Panass, and my property and yours 
will belong to them. 

Karpo was caught quite off his guard, and he could 
not hide his great pleasure. The old fox had outwitted 
him, and it was useless to prolong the business. 

Agreed ! I won’t object to it,” he said, not look- 
ing into Okhrim’s face. But how about the dowry ? ” 
** I won’t rob you,” said Okhrim. “ Give Halya that 
meadow, and two teams of oxen, a pair of horses, and 
six pairs of small cattle, and three hundred roubles to 

build a new dwelling ” 

‘^Stop!” cried Karpo, with genuine indignation. 
Tartar wouldn’t ask for more. But I cannot afford 
it,” he added, in an apologetic tone. ** My old woman 
and I would have to go out to service.” 


MATCH-MAKING. 83 

‘*Why, you could buy up the whole village,” said 
Okhrim with a quiet laugh. 

No,” said Karpo firmly, without a thought of diplo- 
macy. will not beggar myself. I shall not give 
Halya one-half. That is all. You may cease to bother 
me about it.” 

‘‘As you like,” answered Okhrim. He turned over 
his empty cup, and laid on the top of it the little lump 
of sugar he had been nibbling at. This meant the tea- 
drinking was over, as well as the bargain. 

“But you must have some more tea!” exclaimed 
Karpo. “ Here, Halya ! Marfa! Who is there ! Make 
the samovar ready again ; and bring more sugar and a 
lemon ; and be quick ! ” 

Karpo was by no means astonished or offended by 
Okhrim’s rapacity. It was quite natural. When one 
makes a bargain, one should strive to outwit his neigh- 
bour. They began to smoke their pipes, and entered 
into an] amicable and indifferent conversation, till the 
samovar appeared again. They had already drunk a 
dozen cups each ; but they set to again, drinking per- 
sistently and solemnly, avoiding one another’s eyes, and 
cautiously abstaining from a word on the subject which 
both had at heart. 

But the subject had been broached, and could not be 
forgotten. The one who spoke of it first would be the 
one to give way. Karpo sat panting and sighing, from 
time to time wiping his face on his shirt-sleeve. 

Okhrim shuffled, sipped his tea, emptying his cup 
again and again ; and in his character of a trader who 
went much into the world, told all sorts of stories about 
it, to which Karpo listened with the deepest attention. 
This might have gone on for hours if Okhrim had not 


84 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


accidentally looked through the window, and saw Yarina 
stepping across the fold-yard, and slipping round the 
corner of the house. Her appearance excited him, and 
he lost his self-possession. 

There’s Yarina ! ” he ejaculated. ** Does she come 
here often? ” 

“Sometimes,” answered Karpo stolidly; “women 
will gossip, you know. There’ll be a fine clatter in there 
by-and-bye.” 

He nodded towards the inner door. 

“ Well! now then 1 ” cried Okhrim, lowering his voice 
to a whisper ; “ what will you give Halya? You’ve got 
the better of me after all, you old boar ! ” he added to 
himself. He felt vexed that he had spoken ; but a word 
cannot be caught as a bird may. Once flown it has 
flown for ever. 

“I must think about it,” replied Karpo, filling his 
pipe again, and pressing his guest to do the same. Be- 
tween the puffs of smoke he spoke very deliberately. 

“ One frock — another one — and a third one with a 
blue pattern. Two jackets, five pieces of linen cloth.” 

He went on enumerating his daughter’s wardrobe, 
though both of them knew well this talk was pure non- 
sense. The wardrobe would be provided out of the 
savings of Halya and her mother, and her father had 
nothing to do with it. 

“ But how about the farm stock ? ” asked Okhrim. 

“ One yoke of oxen, a cow, and twenty-five roubles 
in money,” said Karpo. 

Okhrim sighed sorrowfully. 

“ People will say Panass has married a beggar,” here- 
marked, in a sad voice. 

“Well, nobody shall say that,” answered Karpo 


MATCH-MAKING. 


85 


proudly. “I will add the bay mare; she is a capital 
mare, and is going to foal in the autumn. And I will 
give them, moreover, two pairs of sheep ; my sheep are 
very good.” 

“They are good, that is true. But what is their 
value? ” asked Okhrim. 

The bargaining began again in earnest, but when the 
samovar was empty, Okhrim arose to take his leave. 
Such an important business could not be concluded at 
one interview. Okhrim’s heir and Karpo’s heiress could 
not be betrothed as if they were beggars. 

“ Come to see me,” said Okhrim. 

“Thanks for your invitation,” replied Karpo, “and 
in the meanwhile I will have a talk with my wife and 
daughter. We must do it all in a godly manner,” he 
added piously. 

“ That is right,” replied Okhrim, “ and nowadays you 
cannot do it otherwise. In our times, what the fathers 
said the young ones did, and no help for it : but now 
the young folks choose for themselves.” 

“ My daughter is not one of those,” protested Karpo. 

“A word in your ear,” said Okhrim mysteriously, 
“ don’t let her go to Yarina’s, she meets Paul there. I 
shouldn’t wonder if Yarina is come for her now. You 
must not let young folks have too much liberty.” 

“ Marfa ! ” roared Karpo, in such a tone that the old 
woman rushed into the room in terror, “ tell Halya to 
come here instantly and salute her father-in-law, Okhrim 
Moisevitch. Where is Halya? ” 

“ Halya ! ” stammered the poor mother, “ she’s gone 
— I mean I sent her to the shop, and then to the well 

M 


“All right,” said Karpo, turning to Okhrim with a 


86 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


confident wave of his hand, and a smile, as much as to 
say that everything was right in his house and under his 
eye. 

The two old men bowed low to one another, and Okh- 
rim went home very well pleased with the business, as 
far as it had gone. 


CHAPTER XI. 


ARRESTED. 

In the Consistory at Kovylsk a storm was gathering 
against the Slundists at Knishi. The story of Stepan, 
and his broken icons, had filtered through the town, in 
spite of the care of the innkeeper Isaacke. Loukyan was 
involved in it, and his imprisonment for six months at the 
outset of his career was not forgotten by the authorities. 
Father Vasili was known to be culpably negligent, car- 
ing for nothing if his income did not suffer. There were 
vague rumours also of a spirit of discontent spreading 
among the peasantry of the neighbourhood. The village 
constable reported several suspicious and secret meetings, 
at which, in truth, no Stundist was present; but Savely 
did not feel called upon to notice that fact. 

Whilst Karpo and Okhrim were obstinately bargaining 
over their children’s future, a very different scene was 
taking place at Loukyan’s poor dwelling near Ostron. 
Two vehicles drove up to the lonely house. In the first 
were seated two policemen, furnished with handcuffs and 
fetters ; and the second was occupied by a young clergy- 
man, a monk, not a parish priest. He had been sent by 
the Consistory, with the powers of a Government official. 
The constable, Savely, was seated beside the driver, as 
he had been summoned to come to Kovylsk in order to 
avoid any difficulty in driving at once to Loukyan’s 
house, 

“ This is the place,” said Savely, pointing out unwill- 
ingly Louk-van’s little cottage. They entered the house 

87 


88 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


together, Paraska was bustling about the oven, prepar- 
ing their frugal dinner, when she saw the unwelcome and 
terrifying guests entering the yard. Loukyan was at 
work in the garden, lovingly loosening the soil round the 
stems of some rare flowers which had been given to him 
by Valerian. 

‘•What has happened?” he asked, alarmed by Pa- 
raska’s pale face, and thinking some harm had befallen 
the baby. 

“ Soldiers ! ” she gasped. “ Savely is bringing them ! 
And there is a clergyman with them. They are just com- 
ing across the yard.” 

Loukyan’s face grew grave. He did not speak for a 
minute, but cast a farewell glance on his beloved garden, 
his bee -hives, and all the plants he had cultivated with 
so much care. He knew it was a farewell gaze ; but 
what should he say to Paraska to ch-eer her timid heart ? 

“See!” he said; “look at these flowers. A flower 
is one of God’s pets. He clothes them better than 
Solomon in all his glory. But our Lord says we are 
much more than flowers and birds, and God in Heaven 
cares for us all far more. You shall take care of my 
flowers for me, and my bees, and cattle. They are dumb 
creatures, and cannot complain when they are neglected. 
And tell the brethren, Paraska, that I cannot go where 
God is not ; and all will be well with me. They must 
not grieve too much, or lose courage. Neither they nor 
I can be afraid. And now let us go.” 

Paraska followed him, weeping. 

“ If they ask you about your religion,” he whispered, 
“say what God puts into your mouth to answer; but if 
they ask about the brethren do not utter a word. Tell 
them every one must speak only for himself.” 


ARRESTED. 


89 


When they entered the house the men were already 
searching it carefully. Father Paissy was conducting 
the business himself. He had been sent on purpose that 
no important evidence against the Stundists should be 
overlooked. He was also commissioned to visit Father 
Vasili, on account of some delay in payments due to the 
Consistory. 

Paissy was a fair-haired young man, with a small, 
sharp- featured face, soft blue eyes, and insinuating voice. 
The Archbishop was accustomed to despatch him on the 
most delicate and diplomatic errands, which he, with a 
natural love of intrigue and craft, executed with great 
ability. He was a born Jesuit. 

‘‘Here you are at last! — Loukyan, the Stundist 
apostle,” he said, with an easy smile. “We want to 
know something more of your new religion. You have 
as many books as if you were a priest. Have you any 
other documents? ” 

“It is true I teach my brethren all I learn from God,” 
answered Loukyan, “but it is not for me, sinner as I 
am, to call myself an apostle. Here are all my books. 
Please look at them yourself, and may God help you if 
you read them for a good purpose.” 

He spoke so quietly, and with so much dignity, that 
Paissy was somewhat disconcerted. A very vigorous 
search was made for incriminating papers. They ran- 
sacked the pantry, the cart-shed, and the yard, and 
looked suspiciously at the bee-hives, but they did not 
dare to disturb them. The honey jars were inspected, 
and those turned upside down were lifted one by one to 
see if anything was hidden beneath them. No letters or 
papers were discovered until they opened a table-drawer 
^nd found a thick manuscript book, in which Loukyan 


90 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


was in the habit of writing down the notes of his ser- 
mons. Paissy seized it eagerly. 

Here is the New Gospel ! ” he exclaimed, with malice. 

Loukyan smiled good-naturedly. 

God help us to receive the old one,” he said. 

A list of the books was made, and the manuscript was 
taken away as material proofs.” After that Loukyan 
was bidden to get ready to go to the court-house. 

Paraska began to weep and wail aloud, and Loukyan 
cast upon her a look of deep sympathy and pity. 

‘‘ God be with you, my daughter ! ” he said. **Tell 
Demyan to see after all my affairs ; he knows them as 
well as I do. The brethren will hold you dear for my 
sake. I go willingly, Paraska ! Weep not for me; for, 
living or dying, I am the Lord’s.” 

Loukyan was driven to the nearest court-house, where 
an official report was drawn up of the search, and the 
** material proofs ” found. But, before this was finished, 
the court-house and the yard in front of it were filled 
with people. This was what Paissy wished for. He 
addressed them in his most persuasive tones. 

Orthodox people!” he said, ‘‘believers in saints 
and icons 1 you know that of late years rebels have 
sprung up among you, who wish to change the true 
Russian religion for the German one. But this will 
never do, will it, ye Orthodox Christians?” 

“ It will never do 1 ” they shouted with one voice. 

“Then we must stamp them out whilst they are few 
and feeble,” he continued. “We must not let vermin 
flourish till they eat us out of house and home. There 
must be no temptation to become a Stundist ; it must be 
made as great a sin as murder. We are all agreed upon 
that?” 


ARRESTED. 


91 


He spoke in most impressive tones, but the orthodox 
people were somewhat puzzled. Their consciences as- 
sured them that the Stundists were by no means guilty 
of any great sin. At last Kuzka — a spare, middle-aged 
peasant, very fond of hearing his own voice, and with 
few chances of doing so except in the public-house — 
pushed himself forward. 

**To be sure, your reverence,” he said, they must 
be stamped out in the bud — in the grain — because, you 
see, the grain — well ! the grain buds, you see.” 

His ideas grew so entangled that he could only stam- 
mer out some incoherent sentences ; and he was not sus- 
tained or cheered by his rustic audience. The peasants 
held themselves aloof from the Stundists; and the good 
fellowship of former days had ceased. Reformers always 
find opponents; and these men disturbed the tranquil 
laziness of their minds. But to suppress them, to injure 
and persecute them, or to hand them over to the dreaded 
authorities, had never come into their stolid heads. 

Tell me, who among you has heard this false teacher 
speak evil of our holy Orthodox Church,” said Paissy 
insinuatingly. 

Not a word from the crowd. Even they saw the fore- 
shadow of a court of law, and the mere thought of it 
scared them. 

‘‘Why don’t you answer?” asked Paissy gently; 
“ speak out boldly. You will not get into trouble for it.” 

He meant to set them at ease; but only frightened 
them the more by his remarks. The orthodox people 
kept profoundly silent. ' 

“ Did Loukyan speak to you about his religion ? ” in- 
quired Paissy from Kuzka, who gaped stupidly, and 
scratched behind his ear. 


92 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


*‘How should I know, your reverence?” he stam- 
mered ; I’m a poor, ignorant man. I’m quite dark.” 

^‘Dark!” repeated Paissy maliciously; “ I see that, 
when you cannot tell whether one speaks of religion or a 
donkey. So it seems Loukyan kept his new religion to 
himself ! He never lent books to read, or spoke to his 
neighbours.” 

He looked round the crowd with an ironical smile, 
and his eyes unintentionally fell upon Loukyan, who 
stood in a prominent place fronting the people. The 
old man’s grey head was bowed down ; but when Paissy 
ceased speaking he lifted it up, and cast a kindly glance 
on the familiar faces around him. 

I lent the New Testament to all who wished to read 
it,” he said, in a clear, cheerful voice; “ and I read it 
to those who could not read it for themselves. I had 
found a great treasure hidden in it; and I wished all my 
dear neighbours to share it with me. It is a treasure 
that grows greater by dividing it; for it is the Truth, 
God’s Truth. Oh, yes ! that I taught openly ; not in 
secret. Everybody who wished could come to hear.” 

“You preached ! And to whom ? ” inquired Paissy. 

But Loukyan, though as simple as a child in everyday 
matters, was shrewd and wise in grave questions. He 
made no reply, as if he did not hear the question. 

“Why are you silent?” stormed Paissy; “if you 
preached you knew who were your listeners.” 

“ Nay ! ’’ said Loukyan, smiling, “ the father does not 
give up his children to destruction ; and the shepherd lays 
down his life for his flock. There was One who heard 
me, the Lord Jesus Christ, who said, ‘ Where two or three 
of you are gathered together in my name, there am I in 
the midst of you.’ Lord Jesus, we felt Thy presence ! ” 


ARRESTED. 


93 


He spoke as simply and sincerely as a child speaks. 
But Paissy made a gesture of horror. 

** Blasphemy ! Rank blasphemy!” he exclaimed; 
'‘we hear it for ourselves. Put him in chains, and do 
not allow anybody to speak to him,” he said to Savely, 
the starosta. "And I will teach you, too, you shame- 
less cowards 1 ” he shouted to the lookers-on ; " Father 
Vasili gives you too much freedom. We shall have to 
tighten the reins a good deal. You will see it before 
long. We will have no heresy and no sedition in 
Knishi, if we have to burn every house in it with fire.” 

His thin lips were white with wrath ; and his mild 
blue eyes blazed. All his sweetness and courtesy had 
disappeared. 

" Out of here 1 ” he shouted, "get off with you, you 
hounds ! ” 

Slowly and sulkily the peasants stole out of the house ; 
but they lingered in the court-yard to watch the de- 
parture of Paissy and Loukyan. Paissy mounted his 
carriage, and ordered the coachman to drive to Father 
Vasili. 

" Now he is gone to get the church revenue from the 
Batushka,” said one of the men, laughing; "Father 
Vasili will squeeze us now.” 

They began to disperse ; but a few still loitered about, 
to see what would become of Loukyan. A little band 
of Stundists had gathered together in the courtyard, 
though Savely had not allowed them to enter the house, 
knowing no good would come of it. Ooliana and Paul 
were among them. Presently the blacksmith, with Dem- 
yan, his assistant, came hurrying up ; and by-and-bye 
there was heard the clanging of a hammer upon iron. 


94 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


They are chaining him ! ” cried Kuzka, peeping 
through the nick of the door which stood ajar. 

At last Loukyan was brought out, with his head un- 
covered, and with fetters on his hands and feet. At the 
same moment the waggon, which had brought the two 
armed policemen, with their swords and revolvers, drove 
into the yard. Loukyan said to himself : “ Are ye 

come out as against a thief with swords and staves ! 
Lord ! Thou art giving me to drink of the cup of which 
Thou didst drink ! ” 

He had not spoken his thought aloud, but it flashed 
across the minds of the little throng watching him, both 
Orthodox and Stundists alike. As if he was a robber 
or a murderer ! ” they murmured. Loukyan’s benign, 
kindly gaze rested upon them, as if in blessing. The 
Stundists crowded round the waggon to look into his 
face, to touch his fettered hands, to hear his beloved 
voice for the last time. Ooliana’s pure devout face was 
lifted up to his. 

Loukyan ! ” she cried, in a clear and fearless voice, 
“rejoice, and be exceeding glad, for great is your re- 
ward in heaven ; for so persecuted they the prophets that 
were before us. We have no fear for you, brother. 
Have no fear for us ! We will follow in your steps till 
God calls us home.” 

“ Get out of our way, woman ! ” shouted the police- 
man ; and Loukyan, who was anxious to avoid any dem- 
onstration that might bring his little flock into trouble, 
only answered Ooliana by a smile, full of meaning. But 
he was leaving these dear familiar faces, on which he 
should look no more, and he could not go away without 
one word. 

“Farewell, dear neighbours!” he cried, speaking 


ARRESTED. 


95 


alike to the Orthodox and Stundists ; I have 

wronged any of you, or grieved any of you, forgive me 
this day.” 

God forgive us all ! ” answered the little crowd, 
whose sympathies at this moment were all on the pris- 
oner’s side. Some among them piously uncovered their 
heads, and crossed themselves, as if in the presence of 
an icon. 

“ Christ bless you, and give you peace,” said Lou- 
kyan. 

** Silence ! ” roared the policeman; drive on 
quickly.” 

But along the rough road, full of ruts and holes, it 
was impossible to drive quickly. The people accom- 
panied the waggon through the street; most of them 
bareheaded, as if they were conducting some personage 
of high standing. They dared not speak to Loukyan, 
nor he to them. But he was deeply touched by such 
unexpected sympathy from his old neighbours, who of 
late had been cold and even hostile to him. At the 
barrier gate he lifted up his fettered hands as if in bless- 
ing, and was about to speak, when one of the policemen 
seized him by the collar, and thrust him violently on to 
the floor of the waggon. 

** Drive on ! ” shouted the policeman, do you be- 
long to this dog’s crew of heretics, and are afraid of 
offending his reverence? I will show you how to 
drive.” 

The coachman gave a start, and whipped up his 
horses, whilst the people stood still gazing after the 
swiftly disappearing conveyance. Then with slow steps 
and sad faces, they started homewards. 


CHAPTER XII. 


BATUSHKA AND MATOUSHKA. 

There was much to talk about. The philosopher 
Kuzka was of opinion that as Loukyan had been arrested 
he must be guilty of some crime. Savely, the village 
elder, as an official, approved of this opinion as mani- 
festing faith in the infallibility of the courts of law. 
Yet he wanted to know something more of the matter. 
Until now he had been indifferent to the Stundists, only 
finding them no trouble whatever to him. He had never 
had one in custody before. Paul was walking home- 
wards near them ; and Savely and Kuzka applied to him 
for information as to what Loukyan had done. But he 
was crushed with grief, and could not answer their ques- 
tions. 

If you only read the Gospel,” said Ooliana, “ and 
act accordingly, you would know what crime Loukyan 
is guilty of.” 

‘‘But that is not prohibited,” said Kuzka. 

“ Not by law,” said a voice behind them. They 
turned and saw Valerian, who, as soon as he had heard 
of Loukyan’s arrest, had hastened to the village court- 
house, hoping to get him released. But he arrived too 
late, and had only time to hurry after the crowd to the 
barrier gate. He heard Loukyan’s farewell words ; and 
his heart felt sorrowful for the little band of Stundists, 
so unexpectedly deprived of their leader. 

“Neither Loukyan, nor any of his followers are 
96 


BATUSHKA AND MATOUSHKA. 


97 


guilty of any crime,” he said; “some people prefer a 
very simple religion, without priests, who so often fleece 
both the living and the dead. That is why the Ortho- 
dox Church is offended. Is that true?” he asked the 
Stundists. 

“ Partly,” said Ooliana doubtfully, “but that is not 
all — that is really nothing.” 

“ Do you belong to them, master? ” Savely asked in 
a respectful tone, but with great curiosity. 

“ Oh, no ! my religion is quite a different thing,” 
said Valerian, laughing, “but I did not come to talk 
about religion. I want to know how Loukyan’s family 
will get on without him. If they want any help they 
must come to my father and me. Loukyan was my fath- 
er’s serf in old times, and a thoroughly good man.” 

“Thank you, master,” said Ooliana, “you are very 
kind and good. But we can take care of our Loukyan’s 
family if they need it. We are bound to help one an- 
other.” 

“ That is right and sensible ! ” said Valerian heartily ; 
“ if men only knew what wonders they could do if they 
stood by each other, there is nothing that could not be 
done ! Listen to me, all of you ! Whenever help is 
needed give it, if it is only fetching a cup of cold water 
for a child to drink. You will be glad you have done 
it.” 

He nodded pleasantly, and turned away, leaving the 
people more puzzled than before. It was plain Valerian 
did not think Loukyan guilty of any crime. 

At Father Vasili’s, meanwhile, the dinner-table was 
spread with unaccustomed pomp. The Matoushka was 
anxious to treat the unexpected and somewhat unwelcome 
guest to as good a dinner as possible. Paissy was clos- 


98 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


eted with Father Vasili, who was passing a very anxious 
hour, in a perfect fever of fright and vexation. Paissy 
was scolding him on two points : for not paying punc- 
tually the usual gratuities expected by the Consistory 
officials, and for not keeping his flock from the new 
heresy. 

“ You will have to answer for their souls before God,” 
he declaimed. “ Woe to those through whom offences 
come into the Church ! Remember what is said : ‘ It 

were better for him that a millstone were hanged about 
his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the 
sea.’ Do you understand. Father Vasili, what that 
means ? ” 

Father Vasili only lifted up his eyes, and sighed 
heavily. 

It is a common scandal,” pursued Paissy, that the 
heretics have quite the upper hand in Knishi. The Con- 
sistory and the Archbishop are much displeased about it. 
Is it right for a village priest to patronise the Stundists? 
How shall you answer your Judge at the Last Day, when 
He asks you what care you have taken of the souls en- 
trusted to you ? ” 

Father Vasili groaned. In this world you have your 
bishop as a judge ; in the next you are answerable to 
God. This was very hard upon a poor village priest, 
who only wished to live peaceably, and receive his dues. 

“Ah! Father Paissy,” he said, “you don’t know 
these people ; you think it easy to manage them. But 
talk to them about the heretics 1 They say, ‘ Leave them 
alone. They pay the taxes regularly, and fulfil all their 
duties ; and if they go to hell afterwards, what then ? 
It is no concern of yours. It is their own affair ; you 
are not responsible for their souls.’ ” 


BATUSHKA AND MATOUSHKA. 


99 


“ But we surely are responsible,” said Father Paissy. 
Father Vasili thought of Loukyan, industrious, thrifty 
and liberal, benign and genial with all his neighbours ; 
of Ooliana, with her saintly self-denial and unswerving 
truthfulness ; of Paul, strong and courageous, courteous 
to all men, and indefatigably kind to those who were in 
trouble. The whole little band of Stundists passed be- 
fore his mind’s eye; and with an inaudible groan he 
said to himself they were the best people in his parish. 

“Do you know,” Paissy resumed, “that they teach 
that no Christian can be a soldier ? And that usury, 
and profit, and wages are all wrong? Do you know 
they think we are all equals, and that there is no mine 
or thine ? If you lend money you sin ; you must give 
it, and not take advantage of your brother’s necessity. 
There will be no trade or commerce if the Stundists get 
the upper hand.” 

“ But this is terrible ! ” cried Father Vasili, roused at 
last to indignation. “ This must be put a stop to ! We 
must tear them up, root and branch. They are danger- 
ous people. But what can I do? ” 

Paissy cast upon him a glance of contemptuous pity. 

“ I suppose you preach to your people ? ” he said with 
a sneer. “You are their spiritual father, and you must 
give them line upon line, precept upon precept, here a 
little, and there a little. If there comes a bad harvest, 
or a destructive storm, is it not God’s punishment against 
the heretics, which the Orthodox are bound to share ? 
If there is a murrain among the cattle, do not the Ortho- 
dox and heretic cattle feed in the same pastures, and 
drink out of the same trough? You must make them 
understand such things, teaching them both in church 
and in private. If the men won’t take heed, talk to the 


lOO 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


women. It is your duty; and the Consistory will call 
you to account, if you neglect it.” 

He then went on to speak of that other serious negli- 
gence — not paying promptly the offerings expected by 
the Church officials. Poor Father Vasili listened with 
undisguised dismay; and Paissy softened his tone a 
little, and even promised to intercede with the Consis- 
tory for a postponement of tfie tribute due, if he would 
undertake to watch the Stundists and send in reports of 
their proceedings. 

* ‘ But I hope we have destroyed the sect here in the 
egg,” said Paissy. 

Both went to dinner in an amicable mood. The Ma- 
toushka, who was an excellent cook, had provided an 
admirable impromptu meal, in her anxiety to propitiate 
this pillar of the church. It was quite a success. Only 
the Matoushka kept complaining of the hard times and 
their decreasing income. 

Folks are growing cold in their faith, I say,” she 
moaned; ‘‘they keep away from church, you know. 
Only come to be married and buried. In old times, 
you know, every house was blessed at least three times a 
year, and so many kopecks or roubles for that. Now 
everybody tries to shun it once a year, you see.” 

She paused to fetch a hot dish from the oven, and to 
fill Paissy’s plate with food from it. 

“People have given up dying, Isay,” she resumed. 
“To be sure, the children die like flies ; but what in- 
come does a child’s burial bring in, I ask you? The 
mother offers you a basket of eggs, and you must thank 
her even for that. But it’s as much trouble to bury a 
child as a grown-up person, I say. But real people like 
that don’t die at all. We had only two funerals last 


BATUSHKA AND MATOUSHKA. 


lOI 


summer, and one of them was the corpse of some vaga- 
bond the police picked up, and we had to bury it for 
nothing. We were out of pocket by it, I tell your rev- 
erence. The death income has sunk almost to a cipher. 
And yet,” she said with a deep sigh, there was Father 
Cyril, of the Transfiguration, to whom God sent good 
luck a few years ago. In one summer more than a hun- 
dred people died of diphtheria in his parish. Have you 
seen the beautiful house he has built in Kovylsk, oppo- 
site the public gardens ? ” 

To be sure,” answered Paissy, it is a fine place. 
He is going to let it to the officers.” 

*‘Just so,” said the Matoushka, ‘‘all that was built 
by the dead fees, I say. So the Lord raises up one, and 
humbles the other. All is according to His holy will.” 

She spoke very piously. The Matoushka had more 
mother-wit than her husband, and knew what was prob- 
ably the weak point of their guest. At dessert, whilst 
she poured out a liberal measure of liqueurs for Paissy, 
she asked if he would not soon be appointed the chief 
of the priests in the cathedral at Kovylsk. 

“ Father Levitoff is resigning, people say,” she re- 
marked ; “and there is nobody to fill his place but 
you.” 

Paissy smiled complacently. At present this was the 
summit of his ambition. 

“ I am too young for the post,” he said modestly. 

“It is not age, but intellect, I say,” answered the 
Matoushka, “that ought to get promotion. Intellect 
and holiness, you know ! I remember years ago when 
there were bishops hardly over forty. We shall see you 
a bishop before we die.” 

Paissy, having dined well, entered into an animated 


102 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


conversation, telling of the intrigues going on in the 
Consistory, and the necessity of being very diplomatic 
himself. In his heart he fully agreed with the Ma- 
toushka that his intellect and zeal more than counter- 
balanced his youth, and ought to guide the Consistory 
in choosing him for a dignitary of the Church. If he 
could only stamp out Stundism in the province, he was 
sure of promotion ; and his first step had been taken 
here, in Knishi. 

He left for Kovylsk at dusk. Father Vasili, after so 
many unaccustomed libations, could hardly move his 
tongue ; and certainly could not comprehend a word 
that was said to him. But the Matoushka was as fresh 
and clear-minded as during the dinner ; and to her 
Paissy repeated his shrewd instructions about the duties 
of her husband as a pastor. He placed his injunctions 
against the Stundists in a very plain and comprehensible 
form. The Matoushka promised she would do her best 
among the women. Any misfortune that happened in 
Knishi should henceforth be laid at the door of the 
heretics. 


CHAPTER XIIL 


THE PANNOTSHKA’S GRAVE. 

Many curious eyes \yatched Ooliana and Paul the fol- 
lowing Sunday as they walked openly down the village 
street to the cottage where the Stundists were wont to 
meet. The autumn was treading closely on the steps of 
the departing summer, and a soft film lay over the wide 
undulating steppe surrounding the village, and temi)ered 
the heat of the sun, already half way down to his winter 
bed. There was in the sorrowful hearts of the mother 
and son a feeling like autumn, looking on into a dreary 
winter. Yet when their eyes met a gleam of hope and 
courage darted from the one soul to the other. 

They were passing the house of the starosta Savely, 
when they saw him come quickly across his yard to in- 
tercept them. Savely’s mother and Ooliana had been 
sisters, and he had known her and loved her as a kins- 
woman from his childhood. She was two years younger 
than he, and he had always looked upon himself as her 
brother and protector. 

‘‘Ooliana,” he said, stepping in front of them, and 
speaking with the air of a man in authority, “ I warn 
you to go home. There is danger where you are going ; 
danger for you, but above all for your son.” 

Ooliana looked steadily into his face with her clear, 
dark eyes, and a wistful smile played about her mouth. 

“I will answer you, Savely,” she said, “in the words 
of our Lord, ‘ Fear not them which kill the body, but 
103 


104 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


are not able to kill the soul : but rather fear him which 
is able to destroy both body and soul in hell.' It is sin 
we fear ; and not to obey our conscience is a sin against 
God.” 

“You will perish for it!” cried Savely, with emo- 
tion. 

“ We may die, but we cannot perish,” she answered. 
“ Our Lord says, ‘ No man can pluck you out of my 
Father’s hand.' Yes, we are in His hand, Savely; 
would to God you were there too. ' ' 

Savely turned away sorrowful and ashamed ; and the 
mother and son, side by side, almost hand in hand, as 
they had been wont to walk when Paul was a little child, 
passed on to the humble meeting- place. 

Not more than half of the small band was there, fear 
having taken possession of the hearts of the least earnest 
among them. Loukyan's chair was empty ; and at the 
sight of it the tears suddenly dimmed Ooliana's eyes. A 
hymn was sung, in low voices, with many a break in it, 
as one after another fell a-weeping. Just at its close, a 
man who had been sitting in a dark corner came for- 
ward, and stood before the little congregation. They 
recognised in him a pedlar, who had come to sell his 
wares in Knishi the day before. 

“ I am Stepan,” he said, “begotten of Loukyan as 
my spiritual father. The church at Kovylsk has sent by 
me an epistle to the church at Knishi. Let me read it 
to you, brethren.” 

All present had heard of Stepan and his iconoclasm. 
There was a murmur of welcome before he proceeded to 
read the letter. 

“The church at Kovylsk sends greeting by Stepan to 
the beloved brethren at Knishi. We know the sorrow 


THE PANNOTSHKA’S GRAVE. 


105 

that has befallen you in the loss of your beloved leader, 
Loukyan. He is here, near to us ; but alas ! beyond 
our reach save by our prayers, which shall rise up be- 
fore the throne of God our Father by day and by night. 
What can be done, without bribery and corruption, 
shall be done ; but God forbid that we should tempt any 
man to sin against the laws of our land ! Brethren, perilous 
days have come. Black clouds are gathering around us, 
and we see no light anywhere save from above, where 
the sun of righteousness is shining, with healing in its 
beams. Look up ! Lift up your hearts — yea, lift them 
up unto the Lord. Pray that we all may be strengthened 
with strength in our souls. Be strong ! — be strong, we 
say, in the Lord ! 

“ Brethren, you remembered us in our affliction, and 
sent largely of your own goods to aid our necessities. 
Now, then, be not backward in letting us know your 
needs, and we will joyfully supply them. If any among 
you hunger, or are in need of clothing, send us a trusty 
messenger, and alLwe have you shall share. We hold 
out to you the hand of fellowship and brotherhood. 
You are as dear as our own flesh and blood, in the bonds 
of our Lord. 

“ Beware of breaking any law ! Beware of arguing 
and disputing ! Beware of the vodka shops ! Beware, 
above all, of those men who go about stirring up the 
peasantry and sowing discontent and rebellion ! We 
are loyal to the Tzar, whom God in His infinite wisdom 
has placed over us. What belongs to him we give will- 
ingly. ^ Render unto Caesar the things which are 
Caesar’s, and unto God the things which are God’s.’ 
There is no plainer precept than that. 

<^And now, beloved, both men and women, fare- 


Io6 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

well ! Be steadfast ; be of one mind ; trust in the 
Lord ; and the peace of God, which passeth all under- 
standing, shall remain in you.” 

A sorrowful conversation followed the reading of this 
letter. Stepan told them that he had been sent by the 
brethren in Volysk on a mission to strengthen the 
scattered churches in the province by telling them of his 
own marvellous conversion, when the Light of Life 
broke in almost instantaneously on his dark and dead 
soul. It was agreed that after a few days Paul should 
drive in his cart to Kovylsk to find out anything that 
could be known of Loukyan, and after a few ardent and 
tearful prayers the little congregation dispersed. 

The village well was surrounded by groups of women 
as Ooliana and Paul passed it on their way homewards. 
Ooliana paused, as usual, to exchange greetings with her 
neighbours, and Paul found a chance of whispering to 
Halya. 

Meet me this afternoon at the Pannotshka’s grave,” 
he said. 

Halya nodded, but said nothing. 

The Pannotshka’s grave lay in the recesses of an old 
forest, almost two miles from Knishi. There was no 
road to it but a by-path which ran along the crumbling 
edge of a deep ravine, which was crossed by a rude 
bridge made of the trunk of a huge walnut-tree, flung 
across the chasm. In the spring this ravine was the bed 
of a roaring torrent, which dried up during the summer 
into a channel, along which lay bleached and rounded 
stones, which looked like the bones of the dead. A 
terrible murder of a young girl had been committed in 
this ravine a century ago. According to custom, a cross 
was put upon the edge to mark the blood-stained spot ; 


THE PANNOTSHKA’s GRAVE. 107 

but long ago the cross, and even the mound on which it 
stood, had been washed away by the spring floods. Still 
the place was regarded with the old horror. It was 
known to be haunted. Belated travellers had heard dis- 
tinctly the sounds of screaming, crying, and hellish 
laughter echoing through the darkness. Herdsmen 
with their cattle avoided the Pannotshka’s grave, and 
the stealers of wood were not tempted by the splendid 
oak and walnut-trees which grew near it, preferring the 
risk of being caught by the foresters to being caught by 
the evil spirit which haunted the ravine. 

Left undisturbed by man. Nature took possession of 
the place, and its exuberance and extraordinary vigour 
arrested the eye and excited the imagination, adding in- 
calculable force to the impression that some invisible 
and mysterious power was brooding over the place. 

It was at night, however, that the Pannotshka’s grave 
was absolutely deserted. It was always solitary, but 
during the day not altogether shunned ; and though 
Halya would not have chosen to walk there alone, she 
was not afraid to go to meet Paul. It was a close, sultry 
day in early autumn. Not a breath of air was stirring, 
and all nature seemed asleep as if in the sleep of death. 
From the cloudless sky the fierce sun poured down its 
rays as if they were liquid fire, and the pale stubble- 
fields reflected the heat on her face, her hands, and her 
bare feet. Not a bird chirped. Only the grasshoppers 
were in high glee, leaping up from under her hurried 
footsteps with a shrill twitter, as if they enjoyed the 
torture the heat inflicted on all other living things. 

Oh ! only to reach the wood ! ” thought Halya. 

Yet she did not go straight to the Pannotshka’s grave. 
Suppose she should reach it before Paul was there ! She 


io8 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


was afraid of it even by daylight. Besides, there were 
reptiles there, for the spot was swampy, and she could 
not bear the thought of them. 

She threw herself on the ground as soon as she reached 
the outskirts of the forest. In the deep, dry shadow of 
the thick trees it was cool ; and she laid her burning face 
on the soft sward. It seemed like paradise after the 
broiling heat of the fields. 

“ He must find me ! ” she said; if he loves me, he 
will find me easily.” 

By-and-bye she lifted up her face, and began to 
watch with eager curiosity the movements of a colony 
of ants close beside her. She forgot herself in noticing 
them. Some were busy striving to move a little bit of 
cork which had fallen from the tree above her. 

“That’s a family going to build a house!” she 
thought. Another ant was laboriously dragging along a 
withered stalk of grass over the uneven ground. 

“ That is a tree,” she said, “ he has cut it down. Is 
it his own, or has he stolen it? Probably stolen. Here 
is the forester running after him. Now he will be caught 
and sent to Siberia.” 

But the second ant, instead of fighting with the first, 
seized the stalk at the other end, and helped to drag it 
along. 

“ Oh ! I wish men were like that 1 ” said Halya, 
sighing heavily ; “ they are all against one another. Oh ! 
I wonder Paul does not come.” 

The leafy trees spread their branches over her, motion- 
less in the torpid air. Here and there through the 
boughs little bits of blue sky could be seen ; but farther 
within the forest the green roof overhead grew more 
dense. She crept slowly and anxiously onwards in the 


THE PANNOTSHKA’s GRAVE. 1 09 

direction of the Pannotshka’s grave, and the trees began 
to form a thick, unbroken wall, hemming her in on 
every side. She felt herself very far away from home, 
and the forest, with its mysterious atmosphere, was en- 
folding her with a terrible embrace. Her heart began 
to beat violently ; and she stopped to listen. What con- 
fused, unfamiliar sounds there were in these green 
vaults ! 

She knew she was going in the direction of the Pan- 
notshka’s grave; but she could not resist the fascination. 
Her curiosity, mingled with superstitious tremors, and 
the desire of seeing something extraordinary, carried her 
onwards. At last she reached the blood-stained spot, 
and gazed down, with a quaking heart, into the ravine. 

It was a wild, enchanted chasm of tangled brushwood 
growing in unpruned luxuriance. The pale grey-green 
of the wild rose-trees stood out against the dark hue of 
the nettles. Large ferns sprang up from the damp soil ; 
and the giant hemlock grew in unchecked abundance. 
Hazel-bushes were crowding up against the sturdy trunks 
of oaks that had lived for centuries. A strange odour 
rose from the mingled verdure, an overpowering exhala- 
tion, which seemed to steal away her senses. This was 
the very spot where the demons met at nightfall, to con- 
sult what evil they could wreak upon Christians. She 
* remembered how Avdiushka, the crazy boy of Knishi, 
had been just like other people, until he had wandered 
hither one twilight, and did not come home till dawn 
quite an idiot. 

Suddenly she heard a loud bleating close behind her, 
and something rushed past her into the ravine. The 
blood curdled in her veins, and she tried to flee from 
the accursed spot. But her limbs failed her, and she 


no 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


would have fallen to the ground if Paul’s strong arms 
had not caught her at that moment, she clung to him 
with all her might. 

The bleating ! ” she gasped, pointing to the thicket, 
and staring with a frightened look. 

<‘It is nothing but a strayed sheep, my Halya, ” said 
Paul; “you will not be frightened now I am with 
you ! ” 

“No!” she answered, with a sob and a smile. 

* ‘ Why are you so late, Paul ? I thought you had for- 
gotten.” 

“Forgotten!” he echoed, “forgotten! That would 
be impossible. Why ! I never cease to think of you. 
And I have been waiting here an hour or more, afraid 
that you had been hindered. Let us sit down, my darl- 
ing; I have so much to say to you.” 

Paul looked at her bare feet, and saw that one of them 
had got a scratch from some bramble. He seated her 
on the trunk of a fallen tree, and taking off his sheep- 
skin cap, he put both her little feet into it, touching 
them tenderly. 

“Poor little things!” he said, “ they will be more 
comfortable like that. My Halya ! I am afraid to say 
what 1 must say to you. I am afraid of you.” 

“ Afraid of me ! ” laughed Halya; but seeing Paul’s 
agitated face, she suddenly became grave. 

“ Loukyan was arrested yesterday,” said Paul. 

“ Ah ! my God ! ” she answered. “ I heard of it; 
poor old Loukyan ! ” 

“ He will be exiled to Siberia ! ” he continued in an 
undertone of horror. 

“ To Siberia ! What for? What evil has he done? ” 
asked Halya. 


THE PANNOTSHKA's GRAVE. 


Ill 


“For reading the New Testament, and preaching 
God’s salvation to those who are in darkness,” he re- 
plied. He went on to talk of Loukyan’s apostolic life 
and teaching. His own heart was full of the subject, 
and he spoke of his leader with great warmth. 

But Halya listened carelessly. She had not come to 
the Pannotshka’s grave to talk about old Loukyan, the 
bee-master. She pitied him; but there were more im- 
portant things to talk about. 

“ Halya,” said Paul, ‘‘ what I must tell you is this — 
they all say I shall be chosen presbyter in Loukyan’s 
stead. I am one of the youngest ; but I have more 
learning than any of the rest. Then, my darling, the 
post of greatest danger will be mine.” 

Danger ! ” she cried, looking at him in perplexity. 

Yes ! ” he said, ‘‘what has befallen Loukyan will 
befall me sooner or later. I, too, shall be arrested, and 
sent to Siberia.” 

In spite of the summer heat and sunshine, a shiver 
ran through them both as he uttered the dread word 
Siberia. 

“ No, no ! ” she cried, nestling closer to him ; “ don’t 
do it, Paul ! Leave them. Come back to me, and the 
true Church ! Ah ! you do not love me ; or you would 
not speak of such things. Do you love the gaol and 
Siberia better than Knishi, and freedom, and me? ” 

“ No, my Halya,” he answered ; “ but, dearest, I love 
God and His truth above all things in heaven and 
earth. Oh ! if you only knew the Saviour as I know 
Him you would understand.” 

“ Then I shall have to marry Panass,” sobbed Halya, 
interrupting him; “old Okhrim came yesterday, and 
he and my father are making up the match. If you 


II2 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


loved me you would save me from Pan ass. I. could per- 
suade my father to give me to you, if you were only a 
Christian. Oh ! why do you make me so unhappy? ” 

** I knew I must tell you," said Paul, “ because if 
you became my wife you would have to share my lot. 
We shall be poor and forsaken, persecuted and exiled ; 
and you could not endure that." 

“Yes ! I could — with you," replied Halya, in a de- 
licious whisper. She pressed her cheek against his. 

“Oh! I love you, Paul!" she cried; “I never 
loved anyone but you ! Don’t leave me ; don’t give me 
up ! I could go to Siberia with you a hundred times 
rather than marry Panass ! ’’ 

She lifted up her face, and fixed a long and search- 
ing gaze upon him. He was deeply moved ; but his 
eyes were sad and steadfast. She did not find in them 
a sign of yielding. Her head fell down ; and she broke 
into a passion of weeping. 

“ There is no chance of happiness for us," said Paul, 
“or rather there is only one — that you should cast in 
your lot with us, and let us be married by tlie Ger- 
man pastor." 

Halya shook her head. 

“Then God's will be done!" he murmured, yield- 
ing to that thread of fatalism which runs through all the 
life of a Russian peasant, and which gives to them a 
strange patience with their bitter lot. 

They sat together, almost in silence, until the red ball 
of the sun touched the western horizon ; and deep 
shadows began to creep along the forest glades. The 
herdsman’s horns were heard in the distance ; the cattle 
were being gathered together for the night. Paul led 


THE PANNOTSHKA’S GRAVE. 


Halya to the outskirts of the forest ; and they parted, as 
lovers part who have met for the last time. 

Paul flung himself under a tree and buried his face in 
his hands. How long he remained in his hopeless 
reverie he did not know ; but when he lifted up his 
head the stars were hanging like little lamps in the dark 
blue of the sky. To reach Ostron he must pass through 
the depths of the forest behind him. He fully believed 
in the existence of demons ; but he had no fear of them. 
What harm could come to him whom God protected ? 
He strode boldly into the wood. 

At some little distance within the forest stood a char- 
coal-burner’s hut, almost fallen into ruins ; for since the 
mischance that had happened to Avdiushka no peasant 
could be found to undertake any work so near the Pan- 
notshka’s grave. What was Paul’s amazement to see a 
light shining through the chinks of the roof and the 
walls ? He crept stealthily forward, with beating pulses 
and a throbbing heart. His curiosity and courage sus- 
tained each other ; when one failed the other prompted 
him. He could not go on, and leave this mystery un- 
solved. At last he reached the hut near enough to see 
the interior through the half-open door. There sat 
Valerian; and beside him a man with a packet of 
papers in his hand. They were talking in quiet tones. 

I thought I heard a footstep,” said the stranger. 

Impossible ! ” answered Valerian, with a laugh ; 
“ there is not a soul in Knishi would venture within a 
mile of this at night. They believe in the devil too 
firmly. The devil has been of some use for once, my 
friend.” 

They resumed their conversation in lower tones ; and 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


II4 

Paul stole away as silently as he had approached the 
hilt. 

His mother was watching for his return. He could 
see her sitting inside the house, with her knitting in 
her hands, and the well-worn New Testament lying on 
the table before her. Speechless and unhappy he crept 
to her side, and kneeling down hid his face on her 
breast. 

Ooliana understood what he meant, and her heart was 
torn with conflicting emotions. She remembered when 
this beloved head nestled in her bosom as its only rest- 
ing-place, when no pain or grief troubled it. Her 
baby was a man now, with a man’s passions and qualities. 
He was suffering grievously ; and his very silence was 
eloquent of his grief. Her tears fell fast upon his dark 
hair, and she pressed her lips fondly against the bowed 
head. 

There is no man,” she said, ** that hath left house, 
or parents, or brethren, or wife, or children, for the 
kingdom of God’s sake, who shall not receive manifold 
more in this present time ; and in the world to come 
everlasting life.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


halya’s betrothal. 

It was well for Halya that her father was not in when 
she reached home. He had gone to Okhrim’s, and 
would probably not be back till a late hour. Marfa told 
her she looked upon the marriage with Panass as quite 
settled, and she was looking over Halya’s wardrobe and 
the household linen they had spun together for several 
winters past. The mother seemed to think that any girl 
must be delighted at so splendid a match, and with such 
a dowry as her father was willing to give to her. 

** Mother ! ” she cried, “ what good will it do me for 
other girls to envy me ? I shall be miserable ! ” 

‘‘Don’t say that! It is unlucky,” answered her 
mother. “ God is with you. In time you may get 
used to it, and you will love your husband.” 

“ You don’t love my father,” said Halya; “ you are 
afraid of him, and you are happier when he is out of 
the way. He does not mind striking you, if you dis- 
please him, and Panass will treat me the same, as soon 
as he is tired of me.” 

They were silent for a little while, Marfa counting out 
the cloths and towels into tens, when Halya broke out 
passionately. 

“ I will not marry him ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ How can you say so ? ” asked her mother. “ Did 
you ever know any girl who refused to marry the husband 
her father chose ? It is unheard of. He would beat you, 

115 


Il6 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

and lock you up, and starve you, and all the men would 
say he was right. You would be obliged to give in ; it 
is a woman’s fate to do as she is ordered. Oh yes ! I 
know. I was a girl once, and I was afraid of Karpo. 
How I knelt at my father’s feet and begged and prayed ! 
I loved someone else, too. Karpo was older than me, 
and he also loved a poor girl. But our families were rich 
and they compelled us to marry. It was a bitter sorrow 
for me. Yes, Halya, you are not the first, and you won’t 
be the last, my poor child.” 

The poor mother was softened by the recollection of 
her own girlhood, and she began to pity and cry over 
her daughter. Halya did not answer ; she knew her 
mother could not help her. 

She wept a good part of the night, and got up with 
reddened eyelids and a pale face. Karpo, coming in to 
breakfast, scanned her with an attentive and searching 
look. He was fond of his only child, and it vexed him 
to think he might have to force her into marriage with 
Panass. He watched her closely, seeing that she ate 
nothing. She cleared the table and folded the table- 
cloth listlessly, not once glancing at him. It was useless 
to defer any explanation. 

Well, daughter,” he said, I believe you know that 
God is sending you a good husband. Okhrim and I are 
pretty well agreed about the dowry, and next Sunday we 
will have the betrothal feast.” 

Father ! ” cried Halya, kneeling before him, and 
hiding her face against his knee, I don’t want to marry. 
If you loved me you wouldn’t want to get rid of me in 
such a hurry.” 

“ I don’t want to marry ! I don’t want to marry ! ” 
repeated Karpo, with a sneer ; “ every girl wants to be 


halya’s betrothal. 


II7 

married, and Panass is the best match in Knishi. Any 
other girl would light a candle before the icon and dance 
for joy.” 

“ Father, I dislike Panass ; I shall not be happy with 
him. Don’t make me miserable ! I am your only child.” 

Old Karpo felt dissatisfied with himself when he found 
he could not make his heart as hard as a flint against his 
daughter. 

“ Tell me,” he said, are you still thinking of Paul 
Rudenko? ” 

“Yes!” whispered Halya, pressing closer to her 
father. 

“ But if he goes on as he is he will have all his goods 
and his lands confiscated,” said Karpo ; “I know it for 
certain. Savely and Father Vasili were talking about it. 
You cannot live upon nothing, my little Halya. You are 
young and foolish, and do not understand what life is. 
It is not all petting and befooling one another. Perhaps, 
though, Paul is going to give up his stupid heresy? ” he 
added, in a softer voice. If Paul would but return to 
the religion of his forefathers, he would no longer op- 
pose his marriage with Halya. 

“ No. Oh no ! ” she sobbed. 

“And you would marry a Stundist ! ” exclaimed 
Karpo. 

“ I don’t want to marry the one or the other,” per- 
sisted Halya; “let me stay at home, dear father ! I 
will work, and please you in every way. I will never go 
out except to church. Oh I let me stay and live with 
you.” 

Marfa had been listening in silence. 

“ Why hurry her, indeed ? ” she said now ; “let her 
stay at home and prolong her girlhood. It is the only 


Il8 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

happy time we women have in life. She will have plenty 
more chances to go under the yoke.” 

** Shut up, you fool ! ” stormed Karpo, glad to find 
someone to vent his vexation upon ; “ you see the girl is 
almost out of her mind and hardly knows what she says, 
and instead of talking reason and sense to her, you begin 
wailing about women not being happy. No more non- 
sense ! She shall marry Panass, and there is an end to 
it. We will have the betrothal feast on Sunday.” 

He flung himself out of the house, leaving Halya sob- 
bing on the floor beside his chair. Marfa could not offer 
her any consolation. Both of them were thinking the 
same thing. It would be impossible for her to marry 
Paul, and her father would compel her to take another 
husband. Why not Panass as well as anybody else ? 

Two days later Karpo went to see Okhrim again, -and 
the next day Okhrim came to see Karpo. They sat to- 
gether for hours, discussing the most minute details of 
the dowry, till at last they came to an agreement on all 
points and shook hands over the bargain. 

The same day Karpo told his daughter all was defi- 
nitely settled. The girl received the fatal news with ap- 
parent indifference. 

Thank God ! she is all right now,” thought Karpo. 
He even condescended to ask Marfa what she thought 
of Halya. 

*‘She seems all right,” answered the mother pru- 
dently. 

Indeed, Halya appeared quite reconciled to her fate. 
She cried no more ; but helped her mother, and busied 
herself about the house in preparation of the approach- 
ing feast. Once when she was carrying water home 
from the well she met Paul, and greeted him almost as 


halya’s betrothal. 


II9 

if he was a mere acquaintance. All was over between 
them. It was wrong now even to think of him. 

Long before daylight on Sunday morning Marfa was 
busy at her oven. Food enough for a whole regiment 
of soldiers had to be cooked. The whole house was 
turned upside down. Karpo brought from the cellar all 
kinds of liquors, especially mead made from honey, and 
vodka. In former days Ooliana would have been there 
putting her hand deftly to everything. Ah ! if Paul 
had only been the betrothed lover ! 

Halya took out the marriage-scarf which she had em- 
broidered so beautifully, weaving into every stitch bright 
thoughts of her happy life with Paul. How often she 
had pictured to herself how she would tie it as a sash 
round Paul, and then stoop and kiss his hand in token 
that she looked upon him as her master and husband ! 

Busy as they were it was essential that all the family 
should go to church. It would not do for anyone to 
suppose the preparations for the feast detained them. 
There was no chance of Paul being there ; and Halya’s 
heavy heart was undisturbed. On their return home 
Marfa and Halya hastily completed their arrangements ; 
and as the church clock struck twelve the guests began 
to come. 

Neither Marfa nor Halya sat down to table; they 
went to and fro between the oven and the dining-table, 
serving the guests, and pressing them to eat from one 
dish after another. Hour after hour they sat feasting, 
until at last the hungriest guest declared he had had 
enough. Then at a signal from her father Halya went 
out, and brought in her marriage scarf, with its rich em- 
broidery. Panass met her in the middle of the room, 
and she fastened it round him, and, bowing low, was 


120 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


about to kiss his hand. But Panass lifted up her pretty 
face, and kissed her on the lips. 

It’s only once out of hundreds of times!” he said, 
with a foolish laugh. 

The blood rushed back from Halya’s face, leaving her 
as cold and white as marble. It would be better to die, 
she said to herself. 

At dusk Okhrim suggested that the whole company 
should go down to his house to finish up the night with 
drinking vodka. There were no women there, he said 
significantly. At last Halya was left alone, for her 
mother, worn out with fatigue, crept away to bed. She 
tore off her rich betrothal dress, unbound the ribbons 
from her hair, and tossed them, with a coral necklace, 
on to the floor. They were hateful ornaments to her. 

Oh, Lord 1 what will become of me 1 what will be- 
come of me I ” she murmured in agony; oh, Paul I 
you might have saved me ! And I love you so ! I love 
you so 1 ” 

In the meantime the drinking went on in Okhrim’s 
house until everyone was more or less intoxicated. 
Okhrim had invited several other guests, among whom 
was Father Vasili ; and Panass assiduously filled up 
every glass as soon as it was empty. He was celebra- 
ting a double triumph ; he had won the girl whom he 
had longed for, and he had ousted his rival Paul, who 
had always looked upon Halya as his own. Panass 
drank joyously to his own betrothal. 

The revels were carried on far into the night. At one 
end of the room half-a-dozen men were trying to sing 
together, each one with a different tune, or a different 
song. In another corner Karpo was caressing the red- 
headed Audrey, taking him for Halya, and saying in a 


halva’s betrothal. 


I2I 


thick voice that Panass was worth a hundred Pauls ; that 
Paul compared with Panass was like a pig to a horse. 
Tl>ese words were caught up by Panass, and excited his 
drunken imagination. 

“Paul Rudenko! who speaks of a pig like him?” 
he shouted. “I’ve got Halya; and now I’d like to 
pound him into powder.” 

“ Look here, boys ! ” cried one of the younger men, 
“let us go and make Paul drink in honor of this be- 
trothal.” 

“ Let us go ! let us go ! ” shouted every man who 
could stand on his feet ; and leaving the older men to 
continue their drunken debauch they set off to Ostron. 

The gate of Paul’s courtyard was locked, but in a 
moment it was broken by a rush of strong men against 
it. Heavy fists knocked at the doors and window shut- 
ters. There was a sound of a child crying within, and 
very quickly Ooliana opened a window. 

“What is the matter? ” she cried, seeing the house 
beset by men. 

“We want Paul! where is he? where is Paul?” 
they shouted. 

“ He is not here,” answered Ooliana ; “ Paul is gone 
to Kovylsk.” 

She closed the window sharply, and disappeared. 

“ She is telling lies ! ” vociferated Panass ; “ Paul is 
frightened, and is hiding indoors. Let us force the door, 
comrades.” 

Several of them snatched up a beam which, was lying 
near at hand, and they were about to attack the door, 
when suddenly it was opened from within, and the tall, 
dignified form of Ooliana stood in the doorway. The 
men involuntarily fell back. Ooliana made a step for- 


122 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


ward, and her whole face and figure were lit up by the 
moon. 

Why have you come? ” she asked; Panass, Aud- 
rey, Danilo, Petro ! You are all of you the sons of re- 
spectable people : many of them my dear friends. I 
could not be afraid of you as if you were a band of rob- 
bers. What do you want ? I have Demyan’s little child 
in my house, very ill, and you have startled him. Tell 
me what you want.” 

‘‘We want Paul to come out and drink the health of 
the bride and bridegroom,” said Danilo. 

“You ought to be ashamed!” replied Ooliana. 
“ Paul is gone to see Loukyan. Probably he will get 
into trouble for it ; but my son is no coward. He risks 
everything to help his old friend. He never dreamed 
that I should be molested by our neighbours. Demyan 
too is gone, and there are only we two women and a 
baby in the house. If you don’t believe me, come in 
and see for yourselves.” 

She opened the door wide, and stood on one side, as 
if expecting them to enter. The young men looked 
sheepish, and remained motionless. 

“Boys I ” she said in her clear and pleasant voice, 
“I have known every one of you all your lives. This 
is Sunday night ; and most of you went to church this 
morning, and prayed to God, saying : ‘ Our Father, 

lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.’ 
And at night you get drunk, and come to disturb poor 
lonely women. I know the devil tempts you, but you 
must resist him, and he will flee from you. Ask God to 
help you. You are an industrious man. Panass; and 
you, Danilo, are a good son ; and Petro is always help- 


halya’s betrothal. 


123 


ing his neighbours. There is good in you all. Oh, my 
sons, be you good men ! ” 

She confronted the subdued and silenced crowd for a 
moment longer, and then with a cordial “ Good-night ! ” 
she turned and entered the house. 

The young men felt ashamed to look one another in 
the face. They dispersed quietly, with no more shouting 
and singing. 


CHAPTER XV. 


INQUISITORS. 

On his return to Kovylsk, Father Paissy went imme- 
diately to the Archbishop with a report of what he had 
learned in Knishi. He stated that he found religion 
there in a deplorable condition ; the Orthodox church 
almost deserted, and the Stundists flourishing, without 
let or hindrance either from the Mir or the priest. He 
feared that the heresy would spread widely ; but he had 
arrested the leader, and he had given wholesome advice 
and stringent directions to Father Vasili and to the 
starosta of Knishi. 

“And the other heretic?” mumbled the old Arch- 
bishop, who was growing childish, but who prided him- 
self on his memory. “The man who chopped the 
sacred icon to fragments in the market-place. Is he 
arrested ? ” 

“ Alas ! no,” answered Paissy. “ He is hiding some- 
where ; but we are on his track. When he is caught, he 
will be tried together with the Knishi Stundist on the 
same indictment.” 

“ Very good ! ” said the Archbishop ; “we must not 
bear the sword of God in vain. We must root out this 
damnable heresy by the sword, if they will not listen to 
reason.” 

The Archbishop proceeded to institute a committee 
for inquiry into the matter, the members of which were 
chosen from the Consistory, and Paissy was appointed 
124 


INQUISITORS. 


125 


its secretary. He became, in fact, the heart and soul of 
it. Along this path promotion lay, and Paissy was pro- 
foundly ambitious. He had, moreover, a sincere hatred 
of all heresy and schism. To him the Orthodox Greek 
Church was the only way to heaven ; and attendance at 
its services, and due payment of its many claims, were 
the steps by which to pursue that way. There was no 
possibility of salvation outside its pale; at any rate, for 
those who had been born in it. God’s uncovenanted 
mercies might be extended to those nations so geograph- 
ically unfortunate as to be born beyond the limits of 
Holy Russia ; but to Russian seceders, no mercy could 
be shown either by God or man. 

Though Father Paissy had an inward conviction that 
Loukyan was one of those fanatics who could not be 
brought to repentance and recantation, he still felt it his 
duty to make the attempt. He proposed to the Com- 
mittee that someone should see what could be done with 
their prisoner by argument and persuasion, and he was 
unanimously elected for the task, as being a priest im- 
bued with the most truly Christian principles. 

Paissy betook himself to the prison ; but his benevo- 
lent feeling towards Loukyan received at once a severe 
shock. He found him and a fellow-Stundist taking a 
walk together in the prison-yard, their two warders play- 
ing in the meantime a game of cards in a corner, where 
they could not overhear the conversation of their prison- 
ers. This indulgence shown to the obstinate enemies 
of God and the Church made Paissy’s blood boil with 
indignation. He summoned the superintendent of the 
gaol, and threatened to denounce him at once to the 
Governor of the province. He was only appeased by 


126 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


the instant dismissal of the warders and the separation 
of the prisoners. 

After this scene the task of persuasive exhortation 
was no easy matter, and Paissy went away without ex- 
changing a word with either of the imprisoned Stun- 
dists. 

A few days afterwards the Committee for preliminary 
investigation held its first meeting in the Consistory 
buildings. The room in which they met was adorned 
with the portraits of eminent archbishops, and behind 
the head of a large table, covered with green cloth, 
hung a life-size portrait of the Tzar in a massive gilded 
frame. The six members of the Committee sat on each 
side of the table, with Paissy in the middle. Before 
him was laid a New Testament in gorgeous binding, and 
beside it was a golden cross brought from the adjoining 
church, to give a more sacred solemnity to the judicial 
proceedings. 

At a sign from Paissy an official summoned the ward- 
ers and their prisoners. They entered by different 
doors, and Loukyan’s heart leaped into his mouth as he 
saw the other prisoner was Stepan. Stepan smiled and 
nodded slightly. They then bowed three times, as is 
the custom of the peasantry, first in direct front, and 
afterwards to the right and left ; but neither of them 
crossed themselves, or bowed to the icons. 

They both wore a prison dress, which very much 
altered their appearance, giving them a meaner and hu- 
miliated look. The warders placed them side by side at 
the foot of the table. 

Prisoners,” said Paissy, in his softest tones, you 
deserve severe punishment for numerous offences against 
our holy Church. Your blasphemies have been a scan- 


INQUISITORS. 


127 


dal to all orthodox people. But our Archbishop, in his 
fatherly kindness and long-suffering towards you, seeks 
rather to restore you to religion than to inflict penalties 
upon you. He will intercede for you to the civil author- 
ities, and get you restored to freedom and to your legal 
rights, if you repent and expiate your crimes. By pub- 
lic recantation of your errors you will set a good ex- 
ample to those whom you have already misled into the 
paths of error. Listen closely to what I am about to 
say.” 

He paused for a few moments, looking at them with a 
steady and searching gaze. Then he addressed Stepan. 

Stepan Vasiliev,” he said, yielding to the instiga- 
tion of the devil, you profaned our holy religion by pub- 
licly cleaving into splinters several sacred icons. A 
fragment of these is in our possession, and we do not 
doubt that it was the divine image of the Mother of 
God ! We shudder at the thought of such sacrilege. 
According to law you might be adjudged to imprison- 
ment, or to hard labour for life in the mines of Siberia.” 

confess it,” answered Stepan; “I destroyed the 
icons. But I had just read in the Bible, ‘ Ye shall not 
make to yourselves idols.’ The poor ignorant peasants 
worship the icons themselves; they call them God, even. 
* Here is our God 1 ’ they say, and they bow down to 
them and worship them ” 

He was interrupted by Loukyan, who was calmer and 
more experienced than his fellow-prisoner, and who 
wanted to prevent him from ruining his cause by rash 
admissions. 

<‘He did not gather a crowd, your reverence,” he 
said. It was in the inn-yard, and only a few people 
saw him.” 


128 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


‘‘Hold your tongue ! ” cried Paissy, raising his voice ; 
“your turn will come soon enough. Then you shall 
have your say. You fool!” he continued, addressing 
Stepan, “ do you not know that if you offend against an 
icon you offend against the holy being whom it repre- 
sents? Do you see this portrait of the Tzar? ” 

Paissy pointed to the picture hanging on the wall 
above his head. 

“ What is it ? ” he asked. “ A piece of canvas cov- 
ered with colours. But try only to strike it, and what 
would happen to you ? The soldiers would tear you 
limb from limb. Do you understand, you stupid and 
ignorant blockhead ? The icon is the same as the holy 
being it represents. If you strike it, you strike the saint 
or the angel it stands for. You do not understand this, 
yet you set yourself to teach the people ! ” 

“But if that is so,” said Stepan, “ if God approves 
of icons, why does He not defend them from injury ? 
You should leave it with Him. He is all-wise and all- 
strong.” 

“ He has already avenged His saints by delivering you 
into our hands,” answered Paissy. “ Write down his 
fanatical and blasphemous answers,” he added to his 
secretary — a young man, a favourite and a distant rela- 
tion of the Archbishop’s. 

The bold answers of the iconoclast Stepan did not 
irritate Paissy. He seemed to him nothing more than 
many others among the Dissenters — a simple fanatic, not 
dangerous in themselves, but mere followers of their 
leaders. Loukyan was evidently the chief person among 
the heretics of Knishi. If he could be got rid of there 
would be an end of the heresy. 

“Loukyan Petrov,” said Paissy, “there are many 


INQUISITORS. 


129 


charges against you. You are put on your trial for un- 
lawfully converting orthodox people to your German 
heresy. You have privily taught damnable doctrines 
both to old and young, who have been seduced by you 
from the true service of Almighty God. At your insti- 
gation this unfortunate young man was guilty of a sacri- 
legious crime. What answer can you make to this? ” 

“Neither Stepan nor any other soul could I convert,” 
replied Loukyan ; “and how could an ignorant, un- 
learned man like me teach others ? It was the Lord 
Himself who taught them and converted them. If any 
guilt lies at my door, it is that I read to them the New 
Testament, and told them what God had done for my 
own soul. That is the book lying before your reverence 
on the table. You have it in a golden binding, but we 
have it bound up in our hearts — a golden treasure, con- 
taining the truth from God. It teaches us how we ought 
to live, and what to believe, and how to worship God. 
Reading and studying the New Testament is our only 
crime. We obey the laws ; we pay our taxes ; we pray 
for the Tzar every time we meet for worship. We love 
God, and we live in peace with our neighbours.” 

“ Silence ! ” cried Paissy ; “your tongue is too long. 
You approved of Stepan’s sacrilege?” 

“ It was not I who approved of it,” answered Loukyan. 

“That is very praiseworthy,” said Paissy, with a 
sneer. ‘ ‘ Write that down, brother Parpheny. Loukyan, 
the Stundist, did not approve of the destruction of the 
icons.” 

“ Stay ! ” said Loukyan. “ Whether I approved of it 
or not I do not say ; but God approved of it, as He did 
when the temple of Baal was destroyed.” 


130 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


Paissy reddened with anger, but he restrained himself, 
and only said, turning to the secretary — 

“ Write it down carefully. Loukyan Petrov, you have 
instigated the people to rebel against the authorities insti- 
tuted by God and the Tzar. What do you say to that ? ” 
It is a false accusation,” he answered firmly. ** We 
occupy ourselves, not with earthly Governments, but with 
heavenly. * My kingdom is not of this world,’ says our 
Lord. It is His kingdom that we seek, and we trouble 
ourselves with no questions of worldly politics. We 
obey not only good rulers, but bad ones. But in the 
matter of religion we obey God only ; and neither prin- 
cipalities nor powers of this world, not the Tzar himself, 
can compel us to obey them rather than God. They 
may persecute us and slay us ; but we shall bear death 
itself gladly, as the early Christians did, the apostles 
and the martyrs, who have received the crown of life 
from our crucified Redeemer.” 

‘‘Then you compare yourself with the apostles and 
martyrs,” said Paissy sarcastically, “and our orthodox 
Tzar is like a heathen emperor persecuting the followers 
of Christ. Is he like Nero or Tiberius? ” 

“ I know neither Nero nor Tiberius,” answered Lou- 
kyan, “but God knows and searches the hearts of all men. 
I say again I make supplication morning and evening for 
the Tzar, and for all that are in authority under him. 
We desire only to lead a quiet and peaceable life, in all 
godliness and honesty.” 

It was quite in vain that Paissy tried to lead Loukyan 
into any dangerous remarks against the Government. 
To him the question of politics was purely indifferent. 
But as soon as the investigation passed over to religious 
topics, Loukyan was unexpectedly candid and free- 


INQUISITORS. 


I3I 

spoken. He admitted that he systematically broke the 
canonical laws ; that he refused to take the holy sacra- 
ments ; that he would not attend the ceremonies of the 
Church ; that he could not conscientiously pay the 
priests’ dues ; and that he had removed the icons from 
their shrine in his house. He acknowledged to having 
christened children, and having buried the dead, and to 
conducting a simple form of the Lord’s Supper. 

*‘What do you think of the holy saints?” asked 
Paissy. 

They were men like ourselves,” answered Loukyan ; 

they prayed to God as we pray ; they loved Him as 
we love Him. True they were as strong men, and we 
are but like babes in Christ. But we too shall grow up 
into manhood. The apostles saw Christ, and talked and 
walked with Him ; and that makes their testimony of 
heavenly worth to us. But they were men with like 
passions as ourselves.” 

Paissy nodded. This was enough to incriminate 
Loukyan. 

Write it down — write it down carefully, brother 
Parpheny,” he said to the secretary. 

**Well, apostle,” he continued cheerfully, ‘‘and what 
do you think of our bishops, metropolitans, and the 
Holy Synod ? In your opinion they are wolves in sheep’s 
clothing, rather than pastors of their flocks?” 

Loukyan made no answer. Paissy repeated the ques- 
tion in a more guarded form. 

“ Even in heaven there are archangels set over the 
angels,” he remarked. 

“ I do not know about heaven,” replied Loukyan; 
“and we, too, have our pastors and teachers; but we 
think it unlawful to pay them, except such expenses as 


132 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


they are put to necessarily on our behalf. If any man 
among us is in want, we supply him with all he needs. 
But we cannot give money for prayer and spiritual 
ministry. This comes from heaven, and is the gift of 
God. No man among us would take money for such an 
office.” 

Write it down!” cried Paissy, in a voice of re- 
strained anger. 

The examination went on for hours. Paissy quoted 
the decrees of the Holy Synod ; Loukyan replied with 
text after text from the New Testament. The decrees 
of the Holy Synod were often directly contradictory of 
the New Testament. Paissy grew more and more ir- 
ritated. 

It is simply a German religion,” he cried; ‘‘all 
that you say you have learned from the Germans. The 
fathers of our Holy Church give quite a different inter- 
pretation to the passages you quote. You are among 
those who wrest the Scriptures to their own destruction. 
You have forsaken your mother Church for a German 
heresy.” 

“Why should we not learn from the Germans?” 
asked Loukyan; “but indeed we learn only from the 
Bible. It does not signify who first brought the light to 
us ; but we who possess it will never plunge into darkness 
again.” 

“ So you persist obstinately in your heresy,” said 
Paissy. “ For the last time I call upon you to bethink 
yourselves, whether you will repent of this your sin, and 
make a public confession of your repentance ; I will 
plead your cause with the Archbishop. Otherwise you 
will fare badly indeed.” 

“ We must first obey God,” began Loukyan. 


INQUISITORS. 


133 


Leave God alone ! ” interrupted Paissy, <Mt is not 
God whom you obey ; but the devil, who is the father 
of lies. Warders! take them away.” 

Every one was weary of the discussion, which was 
entirely useless, and apparently endless. Loukyan and 
Stepan were led away ; and the Committee drew up a 
report of the proceedings to send in to the Archbishop. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


IN DEEP WATERS. 

Loukyan was confined in a solitary cell, and kept 
apart from the other prisoners, in order to avoid, what 
had been frequently the case, the spread of Stundism 
among them. Many of them were dangerous criminals ; 
but they were carefully guarded from the influence of 
the heretics. 

In the same corridor was Stepan’s cell, two doors 
away. They could not communicate with one another, 
excepting when one passed the door of the other’s cell ; 
and if the warder with them was not very strict, he al- 
lowed them to exchange a few words of friendship and 
encouragement. 

The prison at Kovylsk consisted of a large, two-storeyed 
square edifice, with several additional buildings for the 
accommodation of the staff employed. It stood in the 
middle of a wide yard, surrounded by a high and thick 
wall, which was built half-way up the second storey. 
From the cells on the ground-floor nothing but this wall 
could be seen. But from the upper cells it was practi- 
cable, by climbing on a stool, to see over the fields and 
the suburbs of the town. The solitary cells, where the 
most dreaded prisoners were confined, was in the upper 
floor, for the sake of safety ; it being impossible to make 
a subterranean passage from them ; a mode of escape not 
by any means unknown in Russian prisons. 

Loukyan was lodged in one of these cells. It was 

134 


IN DEEP WATERS. 


135 


small and very dirty ; but it was dry and light. It was 
six feet wide by ten feet long ; against the wall was a 
wooden plank instead of a bedstead, and a horribly 
filthy bucket was the only other piece of furniture. It 
was a most uncongenial abode for a man of very cleanly 
habits, and accustomed to the pure air of an out-of-door 
life. But one does not expect a prison to be congenial ; 
and it was at least bearable. 

Twice a day food was brought to him, consisting of 
bread and sour soup at mid-day, and some kind of prison 
skilly at night. He was not allowed to go out for exer- 
cise oftener than once in five days. But he felt well, 
and his mind was perfectly tranquil. He astonished his 
warder by asking for his New Testament, which had 
been taken from him. The request was forwarded to the 
superintendent ; and as the reading of religious books, 
approved of by the Holy Synod, was encouraged in the 
prisons, he was allowed to have it. Now he could spend 
his empty hours in reading the beloved records of his 
Master’s life and teaching, finding constantly in them 
new sources of strength and consolation. Very often he 
forgot that he was in prison. He was walking with 
Jesus beside the Sea of Galilee, listening to His voice ; 
or he was standing on the Mount of the Transfiguration, 
gazing at his glorified Lord ; or looking on with tears as 
the Saviour hung upon the cross; or watching His 
triumphant ascension into heaven. Loukyan’s soul was 
as free as the larks he saw wheeling up to the blue sky 
outside the prison walls. 

The first evening of his imprisonment he began to sing 
an evening hymn, but the warder sternly forbade it ; 
and Loukyan obeyed, and for the future sang only in a 
whisper to himself. The days went on monotonously ; 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


136 

one just like the other ; until he and Stepan had been 
subjected to their first examination. 

The day after this interview with his persecutors, 
Paissy entered his cell accompained by the superintend- 
ent. He looked at once with disapproval at the win- 
dow, from which a wide expanse of sky could be seen. 
The cell was too full of pleasant light. 

“ What ! Petro Ivanovitch,” he said jestingly to the 
inspector, “ it seems you are making your prison into an 
hotel for passing travellers ! ” 

How so? ” said the superintendent ; on the con- 
trary, all my lodgers are permanent.” 

“Furnished apartments,” continued Paissy, looking 
about him with a smile at the plank bed and the bucket ; 
“ but if you keep them in such a mansion as this they 
will never want to leave.” 

“ Oh ! I can alter it, if you wish,” said the superin- 
tendent; “ I have plenty of rooms in my mansion, suit- 
able for different guests.” 

They exchanged a few words in an undertone. On 
glancing again at Loukyan, Paissy caught sight of the 
corner of a book protruding from his pocket. Uncere- 
moniously he possessed himself of it. 

“ What is this, Petro Ivanovitch ? ” he asked reproach- 
fully. 

“ The Testament,” he answered ; “ it is accorded by 
law. I could not refuse it to a prisoner ; it is for their 
good.” 

“ Good for others,” said Paissy ; “ but not good for 
heretics. I confiscate the book.” 

“He will not want it where I shall put him,” an- 
swered the superintendent, with a laugh. They went 
away, taking the Testament with them. 


IN DEEP WATERS. 1 37 

It is written in my heart,” thought Loukyan, “ they 
cannot tear it out of that.” 

Hardly half an hour had passed when two warders 
entered his cell. One of them, a stranger to Loukyan, 
was a tall, muscular man, with hawk- like eyes, and thin 
pale lips, compressed into a hard and cruel line. His 
name was Arefiev ; and he was the special warder of the 
obstinate and refractory prisoners. 

“ That one ? ” he asked his comrade, pointing at the 
slight and enfeebled form of Loukyan. 

“Yes, precisely!” said the other warder. Arefiev 
snorted contemptuously. He preferred dealing with 
strong and really refractory prisoners, whom it was 
worth while to subdue. Was it likely that this thin, 
quiet old man could be stubborn and obstinate? 

“ Come out of here, you archangel ! ” he ordered. 
Loukyan obeyed instantly. His new warder led him 
through long, narrow galleries ; and after making several 
turns, took him down some dark and long flights of 
stairs. Neither of them spoke a word. 

“ Have you any money?” asked Arefiev bluntly. 

“ No ; what I had in my purse has been taken away,” 
answered Loukyan. 

“ You fool ! ” he said, “ didn’t you know how to hide 
it, in your hair, or under your arm-pits. But have you 
any friends in Kovylsk, who would be willing to help 
you ? ” 

“Oh, yes ! I have many, here and at Knishi,” re- 
plied Loukyan. 

“Look here, then! I have different cells,” said Are- 
fiev, “ I will put you into one of the best.” 

“Thank you, brother,” he answered. 

“ But what will you pay for it ? ” asked Arefiev ; “I 


138 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

will take five roubles; and only that because you are 
such a simple old fellow. Will that do ? ” 

^‘No, no,” said Loukyan, shaking his head; we 
dare not give any bribes. You must do your duty to 
your superiors. You must put me where the superin- 
tendent bade you. I cannot tempt you to disobedience.” 

“Ah! that’s your tack!” exclaimed Arefiev, with 
cruel glee, “ you’re one of the new saints ! Very well ! 
you may preach and pray here as long as you like.” 

He opened with a large key a heavy, iron -cased door, 
and pushed him into a dark, fetid dungeon. The door 
slammed — the iron bolt clanked ; and Loukyan found 
himself in utter darkness. His hands touched the cold 
walls, which were covered by some soft slime. The 
floor was slippery with all sorts of filth. The atmosphere 
was so foul and noisome that at first he felt suffocated 
and giddy. He stood motionless for a few minutes, with 
closed eyes and bowed head. 

When he opened his eyes he found himself no longer 
in utter darkness. A little pencil of light shone through 
the key-hole, and faintly illuminated the cell. It fell 
upon a corner of his awful prison. Then he saw that 
what he had taken for slime upon the walls were innu- 
merable swarms of creeping things ; thousands upon thou- 
sands of soft, grey, horrible creatures, covering every 
inch of the walls. At that sight he shuddered with hor- 
ror. With the exception of his bees he could not en- 
dure insects ; and in this hole he would be eaten alive 
by them. It was as if he had been bound hand and foot, 
and thrown into their power. 

The whole odious mass of vermin seemed to move to- 
wards him. Already something was creeping about his 
skin, and stinging him. Beside himself with loathing 


IN DEEP WATERS. 


139 


and abhorrence, Loukyan fell upon the door, and began 
to knock vehemently, calling upon Arefiev to come to his 
help. 

Dead silence was all the answer he got. Arefiev was 
gone to the superintendent to report upon the change 
made in Loukyan’s cell. At last, worn out with his 
fruitless attempts, Loukyan looked in vain for a clean 
spot on the floor where he could rest his weary limbs. 
But as soon as he sank down exhausted new hordes of 
parasites besieged him. He sprang up again, and pull- 
ing his prison-cap closely over his ears to protect at least 
his head from their attacks, he began to walk to and fro. 
It was the only way in which to defend himself a little 
from his greedy foes. 

At mid-day Arefiev brought him a jug of water and a 
piece of rye-bread — the customary diet for those con- 
fined in the refractory cells. 

<‘How do you like your new lodging?” he asked, 
laughing. 

Loukyan said nothing. 

** Would you like to change it ? ” he went on ; but 
now I shall want ten roubles. Don’t ask me to take 
less.” 

Loukyan still said nothing. If that offer had been 
made to him an hour earlier, in the first moments of 
horror and disgust, he might have accepted it through 
physical weakness. But that awful moment was over. 
His nerves were somewhat blunted, and his soul had 
gathered strength. He felt power given to him to resist 
the temptation. 

*<What will you give me to take you into another 
cell?” said Arefiev; ‘‘only you must come in here for 
the superintendent to see you when he comes.” 


140 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


No,” said Loukyan, dare not bribe you ; and I 
cannot practise any deceit. I must bear whatever trial 
God may send me.” 

‘ ‘ Ah ! that is what you are, old fool ! ’ ’ exclaimed 
Arefiev in a tone of pleasantry; ‘Gvell ! we shall see 
what you will say later on.” 

He put the scanty meal on the noisome floor, and went 
away. Loukyan could not eat. He covered the jug of 
water with the bread, and again paced his narrow cage 
up and down. It was about six feet square, and con- 
tained no kind of furniture. 

Two hours later he felt the first pang of hunger. He 
stooped down to pick up his rye-bread, and his fingers 
crushed something soft and slimy. He threw it with dis- 
gust on the floor ; the bread was quickly covered with a 
thick layer of creeping things. That day he neither ate 
nor drank. By-and-bye absolute darkness filled the 
dungeon. He was obliged to walk to and fro with his 
hand stretched out to avoid knocking his head against 
the walls. Five short steps each way was all the limit 
of exercise he possessed. Later on he learned to walk 
easily in the darkness, turning mechanically before he 
touched the walls. Five steps, and no more. The even- 
ing bugles sounded at the barracks. Loukyan was still 
pacing to and fro in his cage. The night guards came ; 
the prison lights were lit ; but still he continued his 
weary march, hungry, thirsty, worn-out, hardly able to 
move his feet, until at last unable to struggle any longer 
he sank down on the slippery floor, and fell asleep like 
one who is dead. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE LOWEST DEPTHS. 

The next morning the Director, in his round of duty, 
came to see the prisoner. Loukyan pointed out to him 
the noisome filth of the floor, and the slimy, crawling, 
living walls. Petro Ivanovitch shrugged his shoulders. 

“ My orders are to keep you in the refractory cells un- 
til you renounce your damnable heresy,” he said ; ‘^a 
refractory cell is not a parlour. Say the word and I will 
report it at once to Father Paissy.” 

Loukyan shook his head. 

As an act of mercy the Director allowed him to have 
a parashka, and ordered the water to be brought in a jug 
with a lid to it. 

A few horrible days passed. The torture to which 
Loukyan was subject was so humiliating and irritating, 
with no short space of cessation in which to gather cour- 
age, that his soul was caught in bonds as bitter as death. 
He was unable to think or pray ; his memory refused to 
recall the comforting words of the Gospel he had em- 
braced. Only the words spoken by Job in his affliction 
rang again and again through his wearied brain. When 
I lie down I say. When shall I arise and the night be 
gone? and I am full of tossings to and fro unto the 
dawning of the day. My flesh is clothed with worms 
and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become 
loathsome.” Now and then, however, a voice within 
him whispered — Ye have heard of the patience of Job, 
and have seen the end of the Lord ; that the Lord is very 


142 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


pitiful, and of tender mercy.” This seemed like a mes- 
sage from heaven breathed in the depths of hell. But 
Loukyan’s physical strength was decreasing. He could 
not stand firmly on his feet, as if he had passed through 
a severe illness. When he paced to and fro in his cage 
his steps tottered, and he soon grew tired. Not for a 
single moment was he permitted to leave his cell and 
breathe the fresh air. Only once a day Arefiev opened 
the door for a few moments to pass in his allowance of 
rye-bread and water ; and Loukyan took care to be close 
by the door as long as it was open. At first he ate all his 
bread at once, as the only way to keep it from being 
covered with vermin ; and he kept the water in the cov- 
ered jug, drinking it little by little. But after three 
days his appetite failed him in that fetid hole. He 
could no longer swallow the bread. 

At the end of the week he was summoned to a second 
examination. This time Paissy was alone when Lou- 
kyan was brought in. Stepan was not there, as Paissy did 
not wish the prisoners to encourage one another in their 
obstinacy. He could hardly recognise Loukyan, so 
changed was he in appearance. This feeble, tottering 
old man, unwashed and uncombed, with shrunken limbs 
and palsied head, was very different from the hale and 
courageous prisoner who had confronted the Committee 
a week ago. Paissy gazed at him with a long and search- 
ing look — the look opponents give to one another before 
engaging in a deadly conflict ; and his face expressed 
great satisfaction. His enemy was sufficiently weakened, 
and would prove an easy conquest. 

‘‘ Well ! have you had time to bethink yourself? ” he 
asked. 

Loukyan did not answer. He wished to prolong the 


THE LOWEST DEPTHS. 


143 


examination as much as possible ; only for the sake of 
remaining longer in that large room, and of breathing 
that pure air. Every breath put new life into him. 

Paissy, believing that the man was reasoning with him- 
self and wavering in his heresy, did not hurry him. 

The Church would accept a late repentance,” he 
said softly. It rejoices over the repentance of one sin- 
ner more than over a hundred of its faithful sons, who 
need no repentance. Like a loving mother she must 
punish her disobedient children ; but it is for their good 
only, that they may be brought back to the path of obe- 
dience. You have been severely dealt with, I can see ; 
but it was I who ordered you to the refractory cells. I 
am sincerely sorry for you, old man ; but I do it for the 
love of your soul, which must be made to submit itself 
to God, and to those whom God has put over you as 
your spiritual pastors and masters. It is better to destroy 
the body, than suffer the soul to sink into the endless 
torments of hell.” 

Paissy continued a long exhortation, containing all the 
time-honoured arguments of inquisitors and persecutors. 
But he met with no response from his hearer, neither by 
word nor look. Loukyan was absolutely dumb and mo- 
tionless. 

Why do you keep silent like a block? ” asked Paissy 
angrily. “ Can’t you speak? ” 

do not wish to interrupt your reverence,” answered 
Loukyan. ** You speak wisely and gently, almost like a 
brother. Yet you kept me in a hole not fit for a dog or 
a pig. And I am a man.” 

“You will fare still worse if you persist in your ob- 
stinacy,” retorted Paissy in a quiet yet terrible voice. 
“ It would be better for one of you to die than to have 


T44 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


hundreds perish in hell-fire through your teaching. You 
are ignorant men ; but there are others still more ignor- 
ant, who will follow your foolish example, and be 
drowned in perdition. It is our sacred duty to protect 
the flock committed to us, and to cast out and miserably 
destroy the false teachers through whom innocent and 
confiding souls may be eternally lost. In Knishi alone 
you have led astray a score or two of precious sons and 
daughters of our Holy Mother Church. They have fol- 
lowed you to their ruin in this world and in the world 
to come. Better, I say, it is to make a sacrifice of you, 
the head and chief of the religious rebellion.” 

Whilst Paissy was repeating these hackneyed phrases 
of inquisitors, Loukyan’s white and worn face changed 
rapidly in expression. He was deeply moved by the 
priest’s sophistry, which was quite new to him. Step- 
ping a little backwards, and laying a hand on his throb- 
bing heart, he lifted up his eyes, and a light shone in 
them, as if he saw the Being whom he appealed to. 

** My God ! ” he cried in a lamentable voice, if it 
was not Thy truth that I proclaimed, if my teaching was 
the ruin not the salvation of my brothers, then I implore 
Thee, by the sufferings I have borne for Thee, by the 
zeal I have shown for what I believed to be Thy service, 
strike me here and now with Thy just anger. Deprive 
me of my sinful tongue ! Blind my eyes ! Let me never 
again take Thy name into my mouth ! Wither away 
my hands that I may never again lift them up to Thee in 
worthless prayer ! ” 

He finished ; his flushed face grew white again. 
Casting down his eyes, and dropping his arms to his 
sides, he waited in mingled dread and faith the answer 
of God to his appeal. 


THE LOWEST DEPTHS. 


145 


At that moment the worn-out old man was splendid. 
Scores of people, had they heard and seen him, would 
have been converted to the new heresy. Paissy saw 
something of the power with which the Stundist leaders 
addressed their hearers. He watched Loukyan with 
lynx-like eyes, and with somewhat assumed indifference. 

‘‘Don’t play the fool!” he said roughly. “You 
have no audience save me. Once more I warn you to 
think of yourself and your family. If you persist in 
your fanaticism, I will leave you to rot in your cell ; or 
if that fails, I will get you sent to Siberia to hard labour 
in the mines.” 

“You have power over the body,” answered Loukyan, 
“to do the worst you can. But the soul you cannot 
touch. The blood of the martyrs will fill up the suffer- 
ings of Christ for the Church. He said He had not 
come to bring peace on earth, but a sword. The sword 
is drawn against us now, but God Himself will sheathe 
it by-and-bye.” 

Paissy was biting his thin lips with rage. He could 
have trampled upon the insolent and obstinate heretic, 
who was unmoved by his threats. But he restrained 
himself. There was one other loop-hole through which 
to escape the humiliation of being vanquished by an un- 
lettered Stundist. 

He drank a glass of water, and began to write on a 
large sheet of official paper. Loukyan, who had a long 
sight, watched Paissy mechanically as he wrote, in a 
bold, clear hand, “I, the undersigned Loukyan Petrov, 
declare.” He supposed it was the report of the exam- 
ination which would be read over to him, and he would 
be required to sign it. 


146 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


Having finished his writing, Paissy looked up with a 
conciliatory smile in his blue eyes and on his thin lips. 

^‘Look here, Loukyan, you are a sensible man,” he 
said; “you must not ruin yourself for nothing. We 
have nothing against you and your religion at all, if only 
you will keep it to yourself. We don’t want to inter- 
fere. If you will go to hell, to hell you must go. But 
it is the will of God, and the Tzar’s command, that we 
must maintain and defend the Orthodox Church by 
every means in our power. It is you Stundists who have 
introduced heresy — the new teaching as you call it. Be- 
fore you we had nothing of the sort. Our diocese was 
an exemplary one, not a Dissenter in it. When we have 
silenced you, it will be the same again. I am deeply 
grieved for you, my poor fellow. Sign this paper, by 
which you pledge yourself neither to preach, nor to hold 
services, nor to attempt to convert others to your new 
creed. Then we will leave you in peace, and you can 
go back to your home and family.” 

With one hand he offered Loukyan the cross to con- 
firm his oath, and with the other the paper he was to 
sign. 

Loukyan put aside the cross, and did not so much as 
look at the paper. 

“ Tempter ! ” he said, “ it is a subtle temptation, but 
the Lord will deliver me from it. Neither your promises 
nor your threats will move me. Woe is me if I preach 
not the Gospel ! ” 

Paissy ’s face was distorted, and his eyes flashed with 
rage. He lifted up the cross, and struck Loukyan’s head 
with all his might. The old man tottered, but he did not 
fall. He wiped the blood from his forehead on his 
sleeve. 


THE LOWEST DEPTHS. 


147 


** A good use to put the cross to ! ” he exclaimed, lift- 
ing up his hands to ward off another blow. 

** Arefiev ! warder ! whoever is there ! ” shouted Paissy, 

come here ! Take the villain away to his cell, and let 
him rot there. He has dared to lift up his hand against 
me.” 

Arefiev, who had been dozing in the anteroom, quickly 
appeared, collared Loukyan, and haled him out of the 
room, amid a shower of brutal blows. He did not loose 
him till they reached the door of the cell, but before fit- 
ting the key into the lock he gave him a rough handling, 
as if he could hardly bear to leave off. 

He opened the cell, and there came from it such a 
rush of foul air that Loukyan recoiled in horror. Was 
it possible that he had already lived seven days in that 
fetid atmosphere ? It seemed as if he could not survive 
it for one hour. 

** I will not go in,” he cried, putting his hands against 
the door-post with the strength of desperation. Put me 
into a cell fit for men ! I demand to see the Director.” 

** Take that instead of seeing the Director ! ” said 
Arefiev, striking him on the head with the key. 

Loukyan caught hold of the key, and by a sudden 
movement twisted it out of the warder’s hand and threw 
it into the corridor. Arefiev sprang upon him, but Lou- 
kyan struggled like a man on the verge of a precipice ; 
and such was the energy of his despair, that in spite of 
his physical weakness Arefiev could not overpower him. 
He whistled and two other warders came to his aid. 
They all three attacked the old man with their keys and 
their huge fists. In an instant he was on the ground, 
and Arefiev, beside himself with rage, kicked and 
trampled upon him as he lay prostrate. His comrades, 


148 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


afraid he might kill the prisoner, dragged him away, lest 
they should all get into trouble. Like a ferocious bull- 
dog, he struggled against them to get back to Loukyan. 

‘‘Why do you go on like this?” said one of the 
warders. “ Have you forgotten what happened to Deni- 
sov? Do you want to go to Siberia for murdering a 
prisoner? Beat him if he deserves it — you are right 
enough — but you must not kill him. You will be the 
worse for it yourself.” 

The warders, among themselves, called Arefiev a cruel 
wolf — not a man. But for the protection of his superiors^ 
he would have been sent to Siberia long ago for tortur- 
ing his prisoners. The last of his victims had been 
Denisov, who died, but his death had been hushed up. 
Loukyan, they knew, had friends in Kovylsk, and some 
investigation was sure to be made if he died. 

“ Let me go ! I won’t touch him,” said Arefiev. 

The men watched him closely, but the maddened bull- 
dog was quieted a little. Loukyan was lying motionless 
and breathing heavily, like some creature hunted to 
death. One of the warders, getting hold of the collar 
of his coat, dragged him into the cell, unresisted. 

“Lock him up quickly; we must get back to our 
posts,” he said to Arefiev. The latter caught hold of the 
heavy iron-clad door and clapped it to with all his might. 
He did not notice, or, perhaps, pretended not to notice, 
that Loukyan’s right foot lay on the door-sill, and must 
inevitably be crushed by the closing door. A heart-rend- 
ing scream was heard from the cell, and when they 
opened the door again Loukyan was writhing in agony. 

“ So your toe was caught ? ” sneered Arefiev. “ That’s 
not my fault. Why didn’t you keep it out of the way? 
Never mind ! ” he added, by way of consolation. 


THE LOWEST DEPTHS. 


149 


Loukyan was left alone in his horrible cell. His foot 
had been crushed in spite of his heavy boots. It was 
soon greatly swollen, and, being pressed upon by the 
boot, which he could not get off, it gave him excruciat- 
ing pain. Leaning against the loathsome wall, he began 
to moan. But Arefiev was accustomed to moans and 
cries, and paid no attention to him. After a good 
thrashing, it was natural for a prisoner to moan. 

Presently he brought the daily allowance of bread and 
water. Loukyan lay with half-closed eyes, and moaned 
in a feeble voice. 

** Have you learned reason at last? ” asked Arefiev. 
“You will know for the future how to rebel against me ! ” 

Loukyan could not eat any bread. At night his foot 
seemed to be a little easier ; the pain was less sharp, as 
if it was quite benumbed. True, the leg now began to 
ache and burn ; but there was nothing pressing on it, 
and the pain was more bearable. Loukyan even slum- 
bered a little. The sleep refreshed him, and when his 
mid-day meal came he was able to eat a little ; but at 
night he grew feverish and delirious. All sorts of strange 
thoughts crowded through his brain, and he had no 
longer any control over himself. 

When, the next day, Arefiev visited the cell as usual 
at noon, he found his prisoner in a high fever and wildly 
delirious. The warder was frightened. Here was a new 
unpleasantness, whilst the old one was still fresh in the 
minds of his superiors. He locked the cell, and was 
about to seek out the prison feldsher to come to see the 
patient, whom he would remove into a better cell, lest he 
should die like Denisov. But at this moment the Di- 
rector appeared in the corridor. Arefiev met him with 
a military salute. 


150 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

‘‘What have you done with the Stundist, villain?” 
he demanded angrily. 

“ Nothing, your honour,” he answered; “he was 
very disorderly the day before last. He struck at Father 
Paissy, and fought with me. We were obliged to push 
him into the cell. Just now he is lying down. He is 
quite quiet.” 

“ I know how you make your prisoners quiet, you 
brute,” said the Director. “ Where is he? There are 
inquiries being made about him.” 

Arefiev opened the cell door wide, and the light fell 
in upon the prisoner. His head was stained with dry 
blood, and his face covered with bruises. One foot was 
lying in an unnatural and distorted position. Loukyan 
was insensible. 

“You dog! you will get me into trouble again 1 ” 
shouted the Director, dealing a severe box on the ear to 
his faithful servant. Arefiev made a jerk with his head, 
but did not dare to defend himself. 

“He began to fight himself,” he said; “we were 
compelled to force him into the cell.” 

“ But his foot, scoundrel 1 Why have you broken his 
foot? ” he exclaimed, lifting his hand for another blow. 
Arefiev took a step backward to avoid it. 

“By chance, your honour!” he cried, “it caught 
in the door.” 

“Have you sent for the feldsher ? ” he asked. 

“Yes, your honour,” he replied. 

The feldsher came, who was considered skilful enough 
to attend to the prisoners. He declared fever had set 
in, and Loukyan must be removed at once to the infirm- 
ary. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


STEPAN ’S OUTBREAK. 

It was thanks to Stepan that the Director had visited 
Loukyan’s cell. 

Arefiev was hated by his fellow -warders for his 
quarrelsome disposition and brutal cruelty, which from 
time to time had brought down a judicial investigation 
of the gaol, disagreeable to all employed in it. The 
news of his brutal treatment of Loukyan spread all 
over the prison, even with exaggeration. It was said he 
had bound his prisoner, and dragged him across the 
threshold of the cell, closing the door upon him in such 
a way as to crush many of his bones. All this was be- 
lieved, because anything might be expected from such a 
brute. 

At first the rumour was confined to the warders, but 
it soon reached the common criminals. On the third 
morning after Loukyan’s terrible accident Stepan went 
out for exercise ; and on passing through the corridor he 
passed a band of prisoners, who were being led back to 
the cells. One of them called out to him 

** Have you heard how your Loukyan has been torn 
to pieces like an old rope-end ? ” he asked. 

The warder ordered him to be silent, unless he wanted 
to get the same treatment as Loukyan. Stepan heard 
no more. But these few words made an awful impres- 
sion upon him. He imagined that Loukyan had been 
pitilessly flogged. 

151 


152 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


When he returned to his cell he watched till nobody 
was about except his warder. 

Pafnutitch ! " he called. 

“ What do you want? ” asked the warder. 

Stepan’s relations with Pafnutitch were tolerably 
good. He was an old soldier, born in Moscow, which 
was Stepan’s birthplace ; and during his long hours of 
duty, he was in the habit of wiling away the time chat- 
ting with his prisoner about the campaigns in which he 
had taken part, and asking him questions in his turn. 
Stepan was a man of great intelligence, and knew how 
to secure the old soldier’s good will, though his princi- 
ples did not permit him to use bribery. 

Is it true, Pafnutitch, that Loukyan has been 
flogged?” he asked. 

‘‘Not flogged,” he answered, “ it was all that wild 
beast Arefiev ; he is a wolf, not a man. He will ruin 
himself and bring trouble on us all. He has beaten the 
poor old man almost to death ; and they say he broke 
his legs with the door. If he were really refractory — 
well ! But to deal like that with a quiet man like 
Loukyan ! ” 

Stepan’s blood ran cold. 

“How! Broken his legs!” he cried; but what 
were the others doing? What is the matter with him 
now? ” 

“Who with? With Arefiev?” asked Pafnutitch; 
“ oh, he is just the same as ever. He does not care a 
straw. ’ ’ 

“ No, no, Loukyan ! ” exclaimed Stepan, “ what has 
been done for him ? ” 

“Oh, Loukyan ! he is lying still in the refractory 
cell,” he answered. 


Stepan’s outbreak. 


153 


“ But he may die there ! ” 

** Quite possible,” said the warder; “it is not the 
first case, and that scoundrel gets off every time.” 

“ To the Director ! Take me to the Director ! ” 
shouted Stepan in a voice of agony. 

“ Are you in your senses ? ” asked Pafnutitch. “ Do 
you wish to be put into a refractory cell under that 
brute Arefiev ? He’d enjoy taming a strong young man 
like you.” 

“ Take me to the Director ! ” shouted Stepan again 
and again. 

“ I won’t take you,” answered the warder, as he 
walked off down the corridor after locking the cell door. 

Then Stepan began to revolt. He knocked and 
kicked at the door with all his might, shouted at the top 
of his voice, and smashed the panes of his little barred 
window. The warders came, and tried to quiet him 
with a few blows. They tied him hand and foot ; but 
they dared not gag him without orders. At last the 
Director was sent for. 

“ What is the meaning of this? ” demanded the Di- 
rector. “ Are you about to stir up a riot? I will do 
you prompt justice.” 

“ I do not want to make a riot,” answered Stepan, 
almost beside himself with indignation; “but it is 
illegal to torture prisoners — to break their bones ” 

“Who is torturing you?” interrupted the Director. 
“Who has broken your bones? You are talking sheer 
nonsense.” 

“Nobody is hurting me,” he answered; “but my 
comrade Loukyan ” 

“ Well ! what has that to do with you ? ” again inter- 
rupted the Director. “ Are you an inspector of the 


154 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


prison ? How do you know what has happened to 
Loukyan ? I know nothing about him.” 

** Be so good, for Christ’s sake,” implored Stepan 
once more in his voice of agony, to go and see for 
yourself whether it is true or not ! And punish me as 
you please. I could not get anyone to fetch you till I 
began to revolt.” 

The Director ordered Stepan to be put on a diet of 
bread and water as a punishment. But he followed his 
advice, and went to make an investigation. Arefiev’s 
habits were well known to him, and it would be well to 
hush up the matter before it went any further. 

The same evening Pafnutitch appeared with a guilty 
face at the door of Stepan’s cell. 

** Stepan ! Stepan ! ” he called in a gentle voice. He 
felt grateful to his prisoner that he had not betrayed 
him to the Director as being his informant of Loukyan’s 
punishment. 

‘‘ What do you want? ” asked Stepan sternly. 

Don’t be angry with me for what happened this 
morning,” he said, I mean for the blows we gave you 
and so on. You will understand yourself it was our 
duty.” 

“God will forgive you,” said Stepan, “I am not 
angry with you. Christ suffered in the same way ; they 
scourged Him and smote Him. The disciple is not 
greater than his Lord. If they hated Him, they will 
hate us also.” 

“You have done me a great service to-day,” went on 
the warder, “ what would have been done to me if you 
had said I had told you about Loukyan ! When he put 
the question to you my heart was in my mouth for fear. 


STEPAN’S OUTBREAK. 


155 

I am lost, I thought. But you kept quiet. You re- 
turned me good for evil.” 

But I only did what I ought,” said Stepan; I 
could not betray you.” 

Anyone else would have done so, simply out of 
spite,” said the old soldier; after those blows too! 
But there ! you may be kind to many a prisoner, and 
they turn all at once on you and play you such a trick 
as you never forget. But you Stundists are like the 
saints themselves.” 

** And why ? ” answered Stepan, in a low voice, lest 
they should be overheard, ‘‘because we set the Lord 
Jesus Christ before us as our pattern. We read how He 
bore with persecution even unto death, and we strive to 
bear our affliction as He did. We believe that He is 
with us, though we cannot see Him, and so we have 
strength to bear all things. We could not call ourselves 
Christians if we forgot Him.” 

He spoke for some time earnestly, and Pafnutitch 
seemed to listen intently. But it was evident he did 
not understand Stepan. His brain worked very slowly, 
and Stepan’s words and thoughts were not familiar to 
him. One thing, how'ever, he comprehended, that he 
was addressed as a friend, not as a warder, or a foolish 
old man, and this touched him to the heart. 

“ As for that order to starve you on bread and water 
for a whole month,” he said, when Stepan paused for a 
moment, wondering how he could speak more simply to 
him, “ you need not trouble yourself about that. I will 
bring you secretly some of my own rations. And if 
you wish to send out any news to your wife, or mother, 
or sweetheart, trust me. I will take a message or a let- 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


156 

ter, and you shall not tip me for it, because you think 
it wrong.” 

Stepan was puzzled. He could not have bribed the 
man; but was it right to accept this offer? Yet it was 
of great importance the friends outside should know 
about Loukyan. 

“I have neither wife nor sweetheart, thank God ! ” 
he said, ‘‘nor a mother. But I want to send news to 
some friends, if you have anybody who could go 
over ” 

“To be sure I have,” interrupted Pafnutitch ; “my 
nephew is living with me, the son of my deceased sister. 
His name is Mitiushka. He is the son of her first hus- 
band, because she, Matriona, married two husbands. 
The first was ” 

“ Well, then ! ” said Stepan, “send the boy Mitiushka 
to my friends at Ostron, the village Loukyan came from. 
It is about twenty miles from here, near Knishi. Tell 
him to inquire for Paul Rudenko. He must tell him 
what has happened to Loukyan, and they will send some 
of the brethren to minister to his wants. You know 
what sort of attendance he will get in the hospital.” 

“To be sure,” said Pafnutitch, “ I will send the boy 
the first thing to-morrow.” 

Early the next morning Mitiushka, a flaxen-haired 
boy of fifteen, set off for Ostron. He reached it after 
nightfall. The little village seemed asleep ; not a soul 
was to be seen, and the boy was afraid to knock at any 
of the closed doors. He walked up and down the de- 
serted street, vainly hoping to meet with somebody to 
direct him to Paul Rudenko. At last he noticed a stream 
of light shining through one of the windows. He ap- 
proached it cautiously, and leaning against a railing tried 


Stepan’s outbreak. 


157 


to see what was going on within the house. The 
fence cracked under his weight, and the window was 
suddenly opened. Mitiushka took to his heels and ran 
away, only stopping when he lost his breath. But his 
errand had not been done. More cautiously than before 
he crept back again to reconnoitre the lighted window. 
It was closed, and nobody could be seen through the 
thick, greenish glass. But at that moment a quiet, 
kindly voice called to him. 

What do you want, my boy? ” it inquired. 

At first Mitiushka was taking to flight again, but the 
same voice went on — 

‘‘Don’t be afraid. I won’t do you any harm.” 

Mitiushka stopped. He was very curious to know 
who this kind man was. The gentle voice continued 
speaking — 

“ Perhaps you are in great need. You are hungry, or 
almost naked ; or you want wood to make a fire. Well ! 
I will supply your needs. You have only to tell me, and 
I will give you what I have. But to steal about in this 
way is not right, my boy. You are quite young ; and it 
is easy to fall into bad ways, and offend both God and 
man.” 

Mitiushka blushed in the darkness, and tears stood in 
his eyes. His voice trembled. 

“ I did not come to steal,” he said, “I was sent — I 
want Paul Rudenko, the Stundist. I have a secret mes- 
sage for him, himself,” he added, with pride. 

“ I am Paul Rudenko, whom you are seeking,” an- 
swered Paul ; “ who has sent you ? ” 

“ My uncle,” he replied ; “he is a warder in the 
prison at Kovylsk. It is about a man named Loukyan.” 


158 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

** Come in ! come in ! ” said Paul eagerly ; you shall 
tell me inside the house.” 

He helped the boy over the fence, and aroused his 
mother, who was gone to bed. Together they heard all 
that Mitiushka knew about Loukyan. 

I must go to-morrow,” exclaimed Paul. 

“Yes,” said Ooliana sorrowfully; *‘and when you 
are at Kovylsk, go and see Morkovin. He knows every- 
body, and can help you.” 

Paul shook his head dubiously. 

‘‘He is so timid,” he said, “like a frightened hare. 
He has a good heart ; but I can’t reckon on much help 
from him.” 

Early in the morning Paul started in his cart, taking 
the boy with him to within two versts of Kovylsk. It 
was necessary to be very cautious for the warder’s sake. 
Paul went to his lodging, but the old soldier could give 
him no further news of Loukyan, except that he had 
been removed from the prison infirmary to the city hos- 
pital, where access to him would be more practicable. It 
was at the other end of the town, near the street where 
Morkovin lived; and Paul at once proceeded to call 
upon him. 

It was night, and Morkovin was not expecting any- 
one ; so a sudden knock at his door terrified him. 

“Who is there?” he asked, before unfastening his 
bolts and bars. 

“It is Paul Rudenko: let me in,” answered Paul, 
very softly. 

The door opened, and on the threshold appeared the 
troubled face and trembling form of a man of about 
forty-five years of age. He was of small stature, with a 
bird like face, and a beard like a goat. His cotton cas- 


Stepan’s outbreak. 


159 


sock was worn out at the elbows. He wore in the house 
his old church clothes, for he had been for five years a 
verger in the cathedral. He had secretly joined the 
Stundists, but had not courage to do so openly, the more 
so as being an ex-verger he would have met with more 
condign punishment. He was now getting his living by 
selling vegetables. Morkovin lighted a thin tallow can- 
dle, which gave a feeble glimmer, and led Paul into his 
room, seating him in the place of honour under the 
icons. For fear of the authorities Morkovin had not re- 
moved them, but he had drawn a curtain across them to 
conceal them from his Stundist brethren. 

It appeared that Morkovin knew nothing about Lou- 
kyan, except that one of the Consistory clerks had told 
him about the preliminary investigation. 

They brought seventeen charges against Loukyan ! ” 
said Morkovin, shuddering; ‘^seventeen! and for each 
one he might be sent to Siberia ! ’’ 

Paul listened thoughtfully. But he was not so much 
alarmed at the prospect of an exile to Siberia in the 
future as with the present condition of Loukyan in the 
hospital. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


SAFE HOME. 

Loukyan had been carried from the refractory cell to 
the prison infirmary. When they began to undress him 
there it was found necessary to cut away the thick 
leather boot from the broken foot. On seeing its state 
the feldsher shook his head, and uttered a low significant 
hissing. It was dark purple, with black stripes, from 
internal haemorrhage. One of the city doctors was 
summoned, and he agreed with the apothecary that 
amputation was necessary. He advised the Director to 
allow him to transfer the patient to the city hospital for 
the operation, as there only could he receive all the need- 
ful attention. 

‘‘ Your prisoner cannot escape on one foot,” he said 
grimly. 

In the statement sent by the Director to the hospital 
authorities, no mention was made of the brutal handling 
to which the prisoner had been subjected. The acci- 
dent was laid to his own carelessness, and to his ob- 
stinacy in not calling attention to his sufferings. The 
Director always screened Arefiev when possible, in order 
to maintain discipline, and to keep at hand this wild 
beast, ready to fly at the throat of an insubordinate 
prisoner, at the first signal from his superior officer. 
There were some cells the Director never entered with- 
out Arefiev at his heels. It was well to shut one’s 
eyes to an occasional display of brutality for his own 
pleasure. 

i6o 


SAFE HOME. 


l6l 


When, after long hours of unconsciousness and 
delirium, Loukyan came to himself, he at first fancied 
he must be in some ante-court of heaven. The blessed 
light was shining all around him, and fresh air played 
about his face ; he drank it in with long draughts. He 
felt clean and purified. He was lying on a bed, with 
white sheets and warm blankets stretched over him. It was 
very quiet, but there was no longer the dead silence of 
the pit where he had lain. A murmur of voices was in 
his ears. But he was too weak to lift his head and look 
about him. His eyes could see the blue sky shining 
through a window near his bed. A kind hand held a 
cup to his lips; he drank, and fell asleep again. 

When he awoke his mind and memory were perfectly 
clear. The nurse told him where he was, in the city 
hospital, and he understood all. There was no doubt 
in his mind that death was near ; the angel who would 
carry his soul from his maimed and suffering body into 
the presence of the Lord and Master, whom he had 
loved and served so faithfully. An ineffable peace took 
possession of Loukyan’s soul. Not a wave of trouble 
rolled across the tranquil sea on which his little bark 
was floating into a harbour of glory. An extraordinary 
sweetness and light shone on his pallid and hollow face. 
The nurses paused and looked at him as they passed his 
narrow bed, wondering to themselves what thoughts 
could call such a beatific expression to his face. 

The morning after Paul reached Kovylsk, he pre- 
sented himself in the visitors’ room at the hospital. He 
could get no information about Loukyan at first, until 
one of the male attendants told him that he was lying in 
one of the wards ; but as he was a prisoner, no one could 
see him without a permit from the authorities. 


i 62 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


He is very ill,” said the man. “They dare not 
take off his foot, and that is his only chance.” 

Paul hastened to the Consistory, but Paissy was not 
there, and no one else could give him the necessary per- 
mission. Paul tried tipping, for this was not a bribe to 
make a man neglect his duty, but to fulfil it. But he 
was assured that neither tips nor prayers would be of 
any avail. He must come the next day, when very 
likely Paissy would be there. 

But it was on the third day only that Paul succeeded 
in getting an audience with Paissy, through the in- 
fluence of Morkovin, and the judicious expenditure of 
three roubles. He earnestly made known his request to 
Paissy. 

“ Ah ! you are from Ostron,” said Paissy. “A re- 
lation of Loukyan’s ? ” 

“No, your reverence,” replied Paul; “ Loukyan is 
not of kin to us.” 

“Well! well! you are related to him spiritually ? ” 
said Paissy. “You belong to his flock? ” 

“ We are near neighbours, and his family have asked 
me to go to see him,” said Paul, cautiously evading the 
question. 

“ I understand,” replied Paissy with a sneer. “The 
flock sends a benefaction to the apostle, and look for a 
blessed epistle from him to strengthen their faith.” 

“He could not write any epistle now! ” exclaimed 
Paul. “ He is lying near to death in the hospital, after 
being terribly beaten in prison.” 

Paissy pretended not to know about it. 

“ In the hospital ! Terribly beaten in prison ! ” he 
repeated. “ I must make inquiry into this; and until I 


SAFE HOME. 1 63 

know all about it, I cannot give you permission to see 
him. Begone ! ” 

Oh ! your reverence,” cried Paul, he may be 
dying even now. He has people dependent upon him ; 
he will want to make some provision for them. For 
Christ’s sake, I implore you to let me see him to-day.” 

“When I know all the circumstances,” said Paissy 
coldly, “I will decide whether I can give you per- 
mission to see him or not. You may call the day after 
to morrow. I have no time to waste with you.” 

At this moment a clerk entered and whispered some- 
thing to Paissy. 

“ Let him come in ! let him come in ! ” he exclaimed 
hurriedly. “Do not keep him waiting a moment. 
Begone ! ” he added to Paul, who stood hesitating, as 
if he had still some petition to urge. 

Paul bowed, and went away with downcast head, and 
a heart full of sorrow. He saw with what sort of man he 
had to deal, and feared that he should get no indulgence 
from him. At the door he met Valerian, who gazed 
into his face with his kind yet melancholy eyes. 

“ Take courage,” he whispered. “ My errand is the 
same as yours, and I shall succeed.” 

The few days during which Loukyan had been in the 
hospital had made a great change in him. Though he 
was still absolutely at peace, he had begun to notice 
more what passed around him in the common ward 
where he was lying. On each side, and in front of him, 
stood rows of beds. Next to him on the right-hand lay 
a sick man in great danger, who never ceased moaning. 
The patients who were well enough to leave their beds 
strolled up and down in long grey coats, not unlike those 
worn in the prison. At first Loukyan supposed himself 


164 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


to be in the prison infirmary. These grey figures, with 
their haggard faces and slow steps, did not look like free 
men. 

“ How do you feel now ? ” asked one of the male at- 
tendants, approaching Loukyan. 

“ All right ! ” he answered cheerfully. 

“How is your leg? Do you feel any pain?” he 
asked again. 

“No; I do not feel any pain at all,” he replied. 

The attendant shook his head, and touched the wound. 

“ Does it hurt ? ” he inquired. 

“ Not a bit,” said Loukyan. “ I do not feel as if 
there was anything there.” 

The doctor came to examine him, and shook his head 
too. All present in the ward watched and listened with 
anxiety. As soon as he was gone the attendant was be- 
sieged with questions. 

“Will they take the foot off? ” they asked. 

“ I believe so, my good fellows,” he answered. 

“ Ah, how horrible it is ! ” cried one of them. “ One 
can swallow nothing for a whole week after seeing a man 
cut about while he’s alive.” 

There was no accommodation for carrying out any 
operation in privacy, so that the most serious operation 
was performed in sight of the other patients. 

“If he were only a Christian ! ” said a fishmonger, 
who had undergone an operation a short time before ; 
“ but he is a damnable Stundist, and we must suffer on 
his account. They should not put him in company 
with Christian men like us.” 

“Why is he worse than we are, comrade?” asked 
another patient. 

“ Worse ! ” exclaimed the fishmonger ; “ why, he is 


SAFE HOME. 


165 

a Stundist, so they say. He has renounced Christ, and 
the saints, and the Holy Virgin even ! The Stundists 
say she was a German, and everybody knows she was a 
born Russian, and Holy Orthodox ! That’s one of their 
lies ! You ask him about it,” he said to the attendant. 

But the steward had no time to take part in a theolog- 
ical discussion, however interesting. The doctor had 
just called him outside the ward. When he returned, he 
announced that Loukyan was not going to suffer amputa- 
tion. 

“ But why? ” they all asked eagerly. 

^‘He is sure to die before long,” was the answer, 
“ and it is of no use taking the trouble. He could not 
outlive it.” 

There was no attempt to conceal the fact, or to carry 
on the conversation unheard by Loukyan. In almost all 
countries a peasant faces death calmly, and talks of it 
openly. Loukyan heard all that was said, and a smile, 
pathetic and glad, dawned upon his face. He had a 
desire to depart and be with Christ, yet he could not 
help mourning for those he must leave behind him in 
great peril and affliction. 

“ And my son Paul ! ” he murmured to himself. 

At that moment it seemed as if all other figures van- 
ished from the ward, and only Paul stood in sight, look- 
ing down on him with unspeakable love and sympathy 
in his eyes. Had God sent Paul to him in a vision? 
But at Paul’s side stood Valerian, who did not look at all 
like a vision. Yet Loukyan gazed at them almost in be- 
wilderment. Disturbed by his silence, Paul stooped 
down over his bed. 

** Don’t you know me?” he asked, 
from Ostron.” 


“ I am Paul, 


i66 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


“I thought it was a vision, and God had sent it,” 
answered Loukyan in a weak voice. “ Who is with 
you?” 

“ This is Valerian Petrovitch,” he replied. I could 
not have got permission to see you but for him.” 

“ That is good,” said Loukyan. “God will reward 
him ! If you had been much later you would not have 
found me alive.” 

Valerian approached the dying man and examined him 
carefully, like a doctor. Paul watched him with pro- 
found anxiety. 

“ Don’t grieve too much, my son,” said Loukyan. 
“I know myself my hour is come. Paul! I have so 
longed to hear your voice once more, singing as I think 
the angels will sing when I enter heaven. Sing me, 
‘ Safe Home. ’ Could you ? ’ ’ 

Paul lifted himself up, and summoned all his courage. 
The patients gathered round the bed. The fishmonger 
stood in the front, staring. Paul’s clear, melodious 
voice rang through the ward. He sang a hymn well 
known in the Greek Church, and a few voices joined 
with him in the refrain of each verse — 

“ Safe home, safe home in port ! 

Rent cordage, shattered deck. 

Torn sails, provisions short. 

And only not a wreck : 

But oh ! the joy upon the shore 
To tell our voyage-perils o’er. 

“ The prize, the prize secure ! 

The athlete nearly fell ; 

Bare all he could endure. 

And bare not always well : 

But he may smile at troubles gone 
Who sets the victor-garland on ! 


SAFE HOME. 


167 


“ No more the foe can harm ; 

No more of leaguer’d camp, 

And cry of night-alarm, 

And need of ready lamp ; 

And yet how nearly he had failed — 

How nearly had that foe prevailed I 

“ The lamb is in the fold. 

In perfect safety penned ; 

The lion once had hold. 

And thought to make an end ; 

But One came by with wounded side, 

And for the sheep the Shepherd died. 

“ The exile is at home ! 

Oh nights and days of tears ! 

Oh longings not to roam ! 

Oh sins, and doubts, and fears ! 

What matter now, when (so men say) 

The King has wiped those tears away ? ” 

The doctors and their staff were by this time visiting 
another ward, so there was nobody to interrupt Paul’s 
song. 

** That is like heaven ! ” breathed Loukyan when the 
hymn was finished. 

Paul flung himself on his knees beside the bed, and 
pressed his face on Loukyan ’s pillow, sobbing like a 
child. A profound silence filled the ward. 

“ I have fought a good fight ! " said Loukyan joyously, 
“I have finished my course. I have kept the faith. 
Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of glory, 
which the Judge, the righteous Lord, shall give me in 
that day.” Then with a sudden change of tone to one 
of humble simplicity, he added, ‘^Lord, if I have said 
these words presumptuously, forgive thy servant.” 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


1 68 

He lay silent for a few minutes as if to gather 
strength. Then he turned to Paul, and with a great 
effort laid his hand on the head pressed against his 
pillow. 

“ I leave you to go on with my work,” he murmured ; 
“ the harvest is rich and great, but the labourers are few. 
I have laboured, and you will enter into my labours. 
Feed the hungry, clothe the naked ; visit those who are 
sick and in prison. Remember our Lord says, ‘ If ye 
do this to the least among my brethren, you do it unto 
Me.”’ 

How can I take your place? ” said Paul. 

We can do all things through Christ, who strength- 
ens us,” Loukyan answered. “ He will never leave you, 
or forsake you. Have faith in Him.” 

Paul raised his head, and wiped away the tears which 
dimmed his sight. Loukyan’s peaceful face was clear to 
him now. 

I was afraid to take a task too heavy for me,” he 

said. 

The eyes of the dying man grew bright as they rested 
on Paul’s young face. 

“ Too heavy for you ; but not too heavy for you and 
our Lord,” he said. “ You will lift up that cross, and 
carry it for the glory of God. I can foresee your end, 
my son. Much tribulation and sore affliction for the 
flesh ; but the sunshine of God for the spirit. It will 
be well with you to the end, even if you give your life 
for our faith, as I have done ” 

Loukyan’s voice became strong and sonorous. He 
raised himself on his bed, and Valerian quickly stepped 
to his aid, and supported him. A wonderfully solemn 


SAFE HOME. 1 69 

gladness shone in his face. He stretched out his hands 
with a gesture of welcome. 

“ Can this be death ? ” he cried in a tone of triumph. 
Oh ! it is life ! It is life eternal ! ” 

A great excitement possessed the circle of bystanders. 
One or two kissed Loukyan’s hands ; others pushed for- 
ward, if only to touch his bed. Many of them embraced 
Paul. All were weeping as if their dearest friend was 
passing away. Loukyan sank back again on his pillow, 
with glazing eyes, and with a grey pallor on his face. 

Valerian watched the sad scene with deep emotion. 
He was shaken, too, but in a different way. It appeared 
to him as a burst of fanaticism, and an aimless wasting 
of spiritual energy, which might have been used for a 
far better cause. With a sigh he left the ward. 

The next morning when Paul arrived at the hospital, 
he heard that Loukyan’s corpse was in the mortuary. 
He was permitted to see it. There it lay, next to another 
dead man, with an air of infinite repose and everlasting 
peace on the worn features. It was buried the same 
night secretly, by order of the Consistory; because 
rumours about him were rife in the town, and neither 
the clerical nor the civil authorities wished to have the 
manner of his death investigated. The Stundists could 
not learn where his grave was. 


CHAPTER XX. 


VALERIAN THE AGNOSTIC. 

Paul was putting his horse into his cart for his return 
home, when Morkovin hurriedly appeared, hatless, and 
breathless with fright, to say that two gentlemen were 
inquiring for him, one of whom looked like a Govern- 
ment official. An official was an object of terror to poor 
Morkovin. 

He and Paul went into the house, and found Valerian, 
who had brought with him the secretary of the justice 
of peace. 

“ We have some business to talk over with you,” said 
Valerian. We want to take action for the murder of 
Loukyan ; and I am come to ask your opinion as a rep- 
resentative of the Stundists.” 

*^Of course I approve of it,” cried Paul eagerly. 
“ What do you think, Morkovin ? ” 

Morkovin waved his hands deprecatingly. 

Don’t ask me,” he said ; “ nothing will come of it. 
You will only get into trouble.” 

** Nonsense ! ” declared Valerian, “ our laws will not 
allow of such barbarities. Anyhow, such a scandalous 
case must not be left to pass unnoticed like that.” 

“But what can you do against them ? ” Morkovin 
persisted. “They are all one lot and hang together. 
You will present your petition to the Public Prosecutor ; 
but as the case belongs to the Ecclesiastical Department, 
it will be sent on to the Consistory, to this same Father 
170 


VALERIAN THE AGNOSTIC. 171 

Paissy himself. I tell you a raven does not pick out a 
raven’s eyes. You will get into trouble, that is all.” 

“ But it is the right thing to do,” said Valerian ; if 
we are all afraid of getting into trouble every sort of 
wrong will prosper. I could not rest without doing 
something.” 

His opinion prevailed. Together with Paul he drew 
up a draft of the complaint to the Public Prosecutor, In 
it were related the facts of the case, as far as they knew 
them, and an investigation was urgently required. 

The secretary willingly undertook to re-write the peti- 
tion with the customary formalities, and to send it down 
to Valerian for his signature. It was decided that Paul, 
as a Stundist, should be kept out of it. 

Valerian had come to Kovylsk in a return post-car- 
riage; so he willingly accepted Paul’s offer to drive him 
home in his cart. The afternoon had come before they 
started on their long drive. It was a clear, sunny day 
in autumn, and the summer heat was gone. From the 
fields rose a thin white mist, which was driven to and 
fro by a slight breeze, here and there looking as if semi- 
transparent sails were gliding over the waves of a green 
sea. 

The far-off woodlands were wrapped in dark blue, and 
were already mingling indistinguishably with the blue 
horizon. The road stretched before them, a long white 
line, altogether lost in the distance. Paul dropped the 
reins, leaving his horse full freedom ; the beast was go- 
ing home, and knew it. Paul was longing to have an 
earnest conversation with the man whom he had hitherto 
instinctively avoided. 

The feeling of distrust Valerian had evoked in him 
was replaced by one of deep gratitude and sympathy. 


172 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


Without his timely aid he would never have seen Lou- 
kyan again. Though Valerian had never approached 
the subject of religion with him, Paul now felt convinced 
that he could not be an unbeliever. Scholars and philos- 
ophers might have their own modes of speech ; but he 
no longer doubted that Valerian believed in his own 
way, and that in secret he was full of sympathy with the 
Stundists. His mother had always told him it was so ; 
and now he was fully satisfied she was right. 

Paul was five years younger than Valerian, and with 
all the eagerness of youth, he began to talk to him of 
Loukyan’s glorious death, and of the good news he had 
heard in Kovylsk of the spread of Stundism. There 
had been many conversions lately, in spite of the grow- 
ing persecution — a relentless and deadly persecution, 
which seemed to have its spies everywhere. It seemed 
only to deepen the enthusiasm among the brethren, and 
to awaken sympathy for them among the orthodox. 

God’s truth penetrates everywhere, even into the 
cathedrals and the prisons,” said Paul; ^‘as it was in 
the days of Nero, when St. Paul was put to death, so 
it is now.” 

“ Indeed ? ” said Valerian, in a tone of curiosity. 

Paul told him of a prison warder and some old col- 
leagues of Morkovin who had lately joined the Stundists. 
Valerian listened attentively ; the spread of Stundism 
among the peasantry was profoundly interesting to him. 
He saw in it a field where his own political propagandism 
ought to find good soil. This confirmed Paul in his in- 
genuous supposition that Valerian was a believer, and it 
gave him courage to speak plainly. 

“ I want to ask you a question. Valerian Petrovitch,” 


VALERIAN THE AGNOSTIC. 1 73 

he began, looking away from his companion, do not 
be angry with me. I speak to you from my heart.” 

“Pray ask me any question. Why should I be 
angry?” replied Valerian encouragingly. 

“ What, then, are your views about religion ? ” asked 
Paul, turning his honest and serious gaze upon him; 
“ I hear people talk all sorts of nonsense about you, and 
I have partly believed it. But now I know you better. 
You are like Loukyan, always ready to help anyone who 
is in need of help, as if they were your brethren. Now 
you are willing to get yourself into trouble for Loukyan’s 
sake. How can it be that you should care so much for 
the bodies of people, and have no care for their 
souls? ” 

“But I do care,” replied Valerian; “when I meet 
with a sensible and sober man or boy I provide him with 
books for his improvement. Have you not seen any of 
them?” 

“Oh yes, I have,” said Paul; “books upon agricul- 
ture, and the care of cattle. About the stars, too, and 
the history of former times. They are good books.” 

“There are others which you have not seen,” con- 
tinued Valerian, with a penetrating glance at Paul’s earn- 
est face ; “ those books which you say are good, are all 
food for the brain — that is for the soul.” 

Paul looked at him with a perplexed expression. 

“Is the brain the soul?” he asked; “you are a 
learned man. Valerian Petrovitch. Have then the 
animals souls as we have ? But all those books, good as 
they are, are vanity if the man who reads them knows 
nothing about God. If you can teach a man how his 
soul can be saved from sin, he will be grateful to you.” 

“ Of course he would ! But more than that, he would 


174 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


make you rich. He would pay handsomely for his soul’s 
salvation. The priests found out that long ago,” an- 
swered Valerian, rolling up a cigarette. He did not 
want to enter into a religious discussion, and wished to 
pass over the question with a joke. 

Oh ! the priests ! ” repeated Paul gravely; “ who 
does not know they think chiefly of plundering and 
fleecing their people both alive and dead ? But I was 
speaking of the religion of the New Testament. It 
says, * Freely ye have received, freely give ! ’ And 
again, * And him that taketh away thy cloak, forbid not 
to take thy coat also.’ ” 

“One would go very naked at times,” said Valerian. 

“ But that is not like the priests,” continued Paul. 

He spoke of his religious views, not like a con- 
troversialist, but as a simple peasant, penetrated by the 
pure, unselfish teaching of the Gospels. The social con- 
dition of the world would be altogether changed, it ap- 
peared to him, by a religion of true brotherly love. 

Paul was deeply moved. His mother, he knew, was 
praying fervently for Valerian’s conversion, and as by 
an inspiration from heaven, his own soul yearned for it 
also. The image of Loukyan lying in Valerian’s arms 
was before his eyes, and he sincerely believed that a 
portion of Loukyan’s spirit had descended upon him- 
self. If Valerian could be won to God through him at 
this hour, how certain would he be that he was chosen to 
be a leader and a teacher of the people ! 

Valerian listened to him with profound interest. 
Never before had he heard a simple peasant so eloquent. 
Paul attributed his attention to other motives, and pro- 
ceeded to expound all the simple tenets of the Stundists ; 
their objection to a paid priesthood, their abhorrence of 


VALERIAN THE AGNOSTIC. 1 75 

icon-worship, their opposition to vodka drinking, and to 
war, and their doctrine of universal brotherly love. 

** What you say about love and brotherhood is quite 
right,” said Valerian; all right-minded people desire 
it, and work for it. But all that has nothing to do with 
religion, either of the Orthodox Church, or the Stun- 
dists.” 

Paul looked astonished, not understanding how one 
thing could exist without the other. 

“ The priests are persecuting you in the name of the 
same Christ, and quote texts from the same Bible,” said 
Valerian. 

** But those who raise up persecutions cannot be real 
Christians,” he replied. ^‘If they obeyed Christ they 
would not hate and persecute us.” 

Valerian listlessly nodded his head. Paul had uttered 
a truism. 

** But suppose for one moment,” he said, ** that the 
Stundists were the most numerous and the strongest, 
would you not pull down the orthodox churches, and 
destroy the icons, and shut up the public-houses, and try 
to compel people to agree with your doctrines ? The 
orthodox people would get it hot from you, and cry out 
that they were being persecuted and made martyrs of. 
Are you sure you would not annihilate them for the 
glory of God ? ” 

Paul felt a little staggered. This side of the ques- 
tion had never occurred to him. It was true he would 
ruthlessly destroy the icons, and shut up the vodka shops. 
But could he be guilty of any other form of persecu- 
tion ? 

“ No,” he answered, shaking his head. Our Lord 
says : * All they that take the sword shall perish by the 


176 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


sword.’ Christ would not have any one persecuted ; and 
when the people are left alone, they do not persecute us 
for our religion. It is the priests who stir them up 
against us.” 

Your priests would do the same,” said Valerian in an 
undertone, as if speaking to himself. He turned aside, 
looking at the mist-laden fields and the distant horizon. 

“ But we have no priests,” persisted Paul. Was 
our Loukyan a priest ? ” 

‘‘No, no!” replied Valerian, turning to him with 
vivacity; “ Loukyan was an apostle. But the apostles 
are the forerunners of the priests. First come Peter, 
Paul, Luke — they sow the seed ; then come Father Va- 
sili and Father Paissy to gather in the harvest. It 
seems a law of nature, and nothing can be done against 
it.” 

He puffed at his cigarette energetically, sincerely anx- 
ious to end the conversation. But Paul could not be put 
off with his half sayings. 

“ But what then are your real views ? ” he exclaimed. 

Valerian did not respond at once ; he was wavering. 
It seemed a pity to disturb the harmonious convictions 
and the peace of mind of this single-hearted and enthu- 
siastic young peasant. But he felt sorry at the same time 
to leave such an able man to throw himself away upon a 
groundless illusion. Breaking does not always imply de- 
stroying. Stones cast down from an insecure building 
may form a new, more solid, and better edifice. Valer- 
ian had his own convictions, and the desire to convert 
Paul to them overpowered him. 

“In my opinion,” he said, “the world would be 
wiser and happier if we got rid of these things alto- 
gether.” 


VALERIAN THE AGNOSTIC. 


177 


What things ? ” asked Paul gravely. 

“ All these.” 

He laid his hand on a bag of books, chiefly New 
Testaments and hymn-books, which Paul was taking 
home to Ostron. Paul looked at him rather with pity 
than reproach. 

‘‘They are mostly God’s Word,” he said; “there 
are a few hymn-books. The earth and the heavens 
may pass away, but the Word of the Lord abides for 
ever. You may not believe it,” he added, turning to 
Valerian and smiling radiantly, “ but something happens 
to me in my own life, it seems a trifle, of no concern, 
yet I find something in the Testament that exactly meets 
my case. I am struck with astonishment.” 

Valerian smiled back again. 

“ What is the Word of God ? ” he asked. 

“The Bible; above all, the New Testament,” an- 
swered Paul promptly. 

“ But every religion has its sacred book,” said Valer- 
ian ; “and the priests declare that they also have the 
word of God. The Jews hold to the Old Testament, 
and reject the New ; the Mahomedans have their Kor- 
an ; the Buddhists their Rig-Veda. How can you be 
sure you possess the true and only Word of God ? ” 

Paul looked perplexed and disconcerted. No doubt 
had ever been presented to him before as to the Bible. 
The Orthodox Church itself accepted it as a true and 
only revelation. 

“ Give me your Testament,” said Valerian. Turning 
over the leaves like one well-acquainted with its con- 
tents, he pointed out the apparent discrepancies and 
contradictions in the Gospels. Paul read and listened 
with ever-deepening dismay. 


178 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


‘‘Look here ! ” said Valerian, reading the story of 
the dumbness of Zacharias, the father of John the Bap- 
tist, “it is said that after being struck dumb, he contin- 
ued his service in the Temple. Have you got the Old 
Testament with you? ” 

Paul gave him a copy of the whole Bible. 

“ Good ! ” he. said. “Now listen ! In Leviticus the 
strict command is given by Jehovah : ‘ Speak unto 
Aaron, saying: “Whosoever he be of thy seed in their 
generations that hath any blemish, let him not approach 
to offer the bread of his God.” ’ And again: ‘ “ No 
man that hath a blemish of the seed of Aaron shall come 
nigh to offer the offerings of the Lord made by fire : he 
hath a blemish; he shall not come nigh to offer the 
bread of his God. He shall eat the bread of his God, 
both of the most holy and of the holy. Only he shall 
not go in unto the vail, nor come nigh unto the altar, 
because he hath a blemish.” ’ That is clear, Paul? ” 

“Yes,” he answered. 

They were going at a foot’s pace. The sensible horse, 
finding himself unchecked, felt it a suitable time for 
going at his own rate. 

“ Then if a priest with any defect could not serve in 
the temple,” said Valerian, “ this account of Zacharias 
must be a pure invention, written by someone who did 
not know the Jewish law.” 

“That is so,” exclaimed Paul, struck with amaze- 
ment, as if he had all at once seen some clever trick. 

“Who do you suppose wrote the Gospels?” asked 
Valerian. 

“Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,” replied Paul. 

“Ah! but you do not know,” said Valerian, “ that 
not one of these books was written till many long years 


VALERIAN THE AGNOSTIC. 


179 


after Christ is said to have lived. He wrote nothing 
Himself, and as far as we can tell none of His immedi- 
ate disciples wrote anything. It was all done from mem- 
ory and tradition. I suppose, if we tried to find out 
the true story of the Pannotshka’s murder, we should 
find it impossible to do so. So it is with the story of 
Christ’s life. No wonder there are discrepancies and 
mistakes made in it. Of late years learned men have 
come to the conclusion that none of these Gospels are 
authentic. They are a tissue of legends.” 

**Do all learned men say so?” asked Paul in a 
tremulous voice. 

Valerian hesitated a moment. 

<^No,” he answered reluctantly; <*but the number 
that maintain the truth of the Bible is rapidly diminish- 
ing ; and they are mostly priests, who have an interest 
in keeping up its authority.” 

What then is truth ? ” said Paul, in an undertone. 

^'It maddens me,” exclaimed Valerian vehemently, 
**to see good, true, honest men like you and Loukyan, 
and hundreds of others, throwing away your lives in 
following a phantom. You might be so happy ! Why 
should not you marry the girl you love, and live com- 
fortably in the house of your forefathers, and gather 
your own little ones about your knees ? It is because you 
imagine you serve a Being who never lived ; or who if 
he lived, was a man like yourself, whose memory has 
been glorified and deified by the friends who loved him. 
You sacrifice all for nothing.” 

*‘But you do not go to church,” stammered Paul. 

‘^Ah! I run no risk, I shall excite no observation,” 
continued Valerian; “young men of my class are not 
expected to be church-goers. But you know you bring 


i8o 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


upon yourself all kinds of dangers and penalties by not 
doing as other peasants do. And all for nothing ! 
There is no reward in the world to come. There is no 
Christ ! There is no God ! Or if there be a God we 
know nothing about Him.” 

Valerian spoke strongly, as he had a great desire to 
root out of Paul’s mind the superstitions for which he 
was imperilling his welfare and freedom. 

“ Oh, my God! ” cried Paul, in a voice of utter an- 
guish ; and he stretched out his hands to the pale even- 
ing sky above them. Suddenly he sprang from the cart. 

“ Drive home ! ” he said ; “ tell my mother I shall be 
there before midnight.” 

He rushed across the fields lying fallow in their winter 
barrenness, and was quickly lost to sight in the thin 
white mist. Valerian called after him again and again, 
but in vain. 


CHAPTER XXL 


WHAT IS TRUE? 

Paul did not know in what direction he was wander- 
ing, but instinct carried his steps homewards. He felt 
like a man who has just suffered from a shock of earth- 
quake. The solid earth seemed to tremble beneath him, 
and threatened to open under his hurrying feet and 
swallow him up alive. He could not at present com- 
mand his thoughts, which were entangled in a maze of 
terror. By-and-bye the night closed round him, adding 
to the bewildering effect of the thin mist. His progress 
was impeded ; he was compelled to attend to his steps. 
Recalled partly to himself he found that he was follow- 
ing the border of a large forest. 

All at once he felt himself in a place he knew. The 
moon had risen above the mist, and poured down a flood 
of pale light upon the spot where he stood. The air had 
been absolutely motionless until now; but as if some spell 
of silence had been broken, the wind began to wail in a 
low murmur, which rose every moment higher and higher 
until the roar of a gale rushed through the forest trees 
around him. It seemed as if all nature was moaning 
and crying, with shrieks of horror and despair. He 
was standing by the Pannotshka’s grave. 

All the old stories of demons haunting this place 
rushed into Paul’s mind. If Valerian had tried to shake 
his faith in Christ, he had not attacked his belief in the 
devil. Paul stood gazing into the dim ravine, and 
listening to the roar in the forest. Alas ! that he had 

i8i 


i 82 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


ever met with Valerian ! The words he had spoken 
were burned in as with fire upon his heart. “ No world 
to come ! No Christ ! No God ! ” 

Suddenly the thought flashed across him that Valerian 
had given himself up to Satan. The place where he 
stood suggested it. The interview he had witnessed in 
the deserted charcoal-burner’s hut seemed to corroborate 
it. Satan could transform himself into an angel of 
light; and Valerian, with his kind-heartedness and his 
devotion to the poor, might prove a very successful emis- 
sary of Satan. That must be the solution of what had 
just passed. 

He went listlessly homeward, almost fearing to meet 
his mother, yet feeling as if in her serene presence this 
untold misery would pass away. He had much to tell 
her about Loukyan ; and yet it seemed as if all the 
glory of Loukyan’s death had melted into thin mist, like 
this autumn vapour surrounding him. 

Ooliana was watching eagerly for his arrival. Valer- 
ian had brought in the cart, and delivered Paul’s mys- 
terious message. She had been full of anxiety about 
him ever since he had gone to Kovylsk, knowing that he 
might be thrown into prison simply for being a Stundist. 
But now she knew him to be on his way homeward she 
was content. Valerian simply told her Loukyan was 
dead, and left Paul to give her all particulars. He did 
not wish to be there when Paul arrived. 

She heard his step at last in the court-yard, and ran 
to meet him. He clasped her to him in a strong em- 
brace. How good it was to feel his mother’s arms about 
him ! This at least was true. 

They went into the house together hand in hand, and 
sat for a long time talking about Loukyan’s death, and 


WHAT IS TRUE? 183 

the loss it caused to the Stundists. At last Ooliana laid 
her hand fondly on her son’s shoulder. 

My Paul,” she said, “ Halya was betrothed last 
Sunday to Panass.” 

Then she was indeed lost to him ! That promise 
given to him when he made his appeal to the Bible was 
false — false as Valerian said all the rest of the book was. 
This confirmed his assertions. And he had lost Halya 
for a falsity ! 

“My boy!” said Ooliana, “it is God’s will, and 
that will is best. Perilous times are coming. The shep- 
herd has been slain, and they will not spare the flock. 
We must stand together firmly ; and Halya could not 
have walked along this path with us. It is you who will 
have to take the lead now Loukyan is taken away from 
our midst. You are young, but you have more learning 
and more wealth than any of the others. You will have 
more in your power. There is no one else to replace 
Loukyan, and do his work.” 

There was a feeling of maternal pride stirring in her 
heart. Yes ; there was no one like Paul among their 
little band. He was sure to be elected their presbyter. 
No doubt was in her mind as to his fitness for the post, 
or his willingness to accept it. 

“ Mother ! ” he cried in a passionate voice, “ do not 
say that again. I replace Loukyan ! I will not listen 
to you. You do not know what you are saying.” 

“ I only say to-day what everybody else will say to- 
morrow,” answered Ooliana. “It is too late for us to 
see even Demyan. But bad news one should keep under 
lock and key ; only good news ought to fly out quickly.” 

Paul went to his room, but not to sleep. He lighted 
a small lamp which stood on an oak table, on which lay 


184 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


a few books as lie had left them a few days ago when he 
started off to Kovylsk. He recollected the calm joy and 
strength he had gathered from them only those few days 
ago. He remembered quite well the chapter he had 
read in the Gospel of St. John — that Gospel which Va- 
lerian emphatically declared to be unreliable. He turned 
over the leaves and read it again — read and re-read it. 
It was the account of Lazarus being raised from the dead 
by the Lord Jesus Christ. Oh ! what strong consolation 
and triumph did it bring for Loukyan’s death ! 

“But if all that is not true? If it was invented 
years afterwards by someone who wished to glorify a 
friend ? ” whispered a low, still voice. 

“ God save me ! murmured Paul, in horror. He 
looked round ; it would not have astonished him in the 
least if he had seen some bodily shape of evil. But 
there was nothing to be seen but black shadows in the 
corners of the room. 

He read the chapter again, but the beautiful charm 
was gone. He could not imagine himself any more sit- 
ting with Mary in Bethany at the Saviour’s feet, weep- 
ing when He wept, and rejoicing, with unutterable joy, 
when the grave gave up its dead at the Saviour’s com- 
mand. The words passed through his brain, but his 
heart remained untouched and cold — as cold as the 
brave heart of Loukyan laid for ever in the grave. 

“What if it is all false?” The icy-cold question 
chilled his inmost soul. The poison of doubt had en- 
tered there, and was mingling subtly with every thought. 
He pushed away his beloved Testament with a trem- 
bling hand. In his soul everything grew dim. 

“ My God ! what will become of me ? ” he cried in 
horror. 


WHAT IS TRUE? 


i8s 

Until to-day he had believed as simply as a child be- 
lieves. Every line of the Bible had been read by him 
as God’s own Word. To doubt their utter truthfulness 
would have been as impossible as to doubt the light of 
the sun or the solidity of the earth. 

Now he felt the extreme horror of the savage who 
sees the disc of the sun eaten up by an eclipse, or feels 
the steadfast earth quaking under his feet. 

Thoughts which drove him almost to madness surged 
through his brain. If the Bible was not true, then 
what was there in the world that was true ? He had 
never before experienced the torture of doubt, and now 
its sharpest pains beset him. The words Valerian had 
spoken sounded mockingly in his ear: There is no 
world to come! There is no Christ ! There is no God 1 ” 

No world to come ! Then indeed they, the Stundists, 
were of all men the most miserable. Loukyan had 
given up his life in vain. His mother, Ooliana, was 
passing her time in a dream. His own existence was 
blighted in all its future, and Halya, who was lost to 
him, would live a fruitless life of misery. Was it too 
late to save himself and Halya ? No Christ ! Was all 
that beautiful story of a Saviour’s sojourn on earth only 
a fable ? Had there never been a son of God moved 
with love and pity for the wretched race of men ? But 
if man was no more than the brutes that perish, why 
should One come down from heaven to ransom him ? 
He had had a lovely vision of a Redeemer and a 
Brother ever at his side, invisible, but not unfelt. He 
had fancied that this I.ord of his was holding him by 
the hand, as a mother holds her little child along a 
stony path. If there was no Christ, this had been all 
delusion and a lie. 


i86 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


But when he thought of the terrible words, ‘ ‘ There 
is no God ! ” a pang almost as of death wrung his heart. 
No God ! no Father in heaven ! no infinite, unchange- 
able love ! This world was hell if there was no God. 

He sank on his knees, and laid his bowed head upon 
the table. Cold drops of perspiration gathered on his 
forehead. His excited imagination suggested that he 
was given over to the power of Satan. There was no 
doubt in his mind of the existence of this tormentor : 
he was fighting against him and his temptations. 

“ Lord have mercy upon me ! Lord save me ! ” he 
groaned. 

What Lord?” murmured a voice, whether in his 
ear, or in his mind only, he could not tell. 

He rose from his knees. He was suffocating ; his 
brain was on fire; his throat was parched as after a 
dusty journey on a sultry day. He crept softly into the 
kitchen to get a draught of water. His mother heard 
him, and came out to see what was the matter. 

‘^Are you ill?” she exclaimed, frightened. ‘‘You 
are as pale as death.” 

For a moment Paul thought to tell her of the fearful 
conflict he was undergoing. But why expose her to the 
horror of such doubts? This simple and pure soul, why- 
should it be tossed on such a storm as the tempest of his 
doubts and fears ? His tongue clove to the roof of his 
mouth. 

Ooliana recollected that Loukyan’s death and Halya’s 
betrothal were new griefs to her son. This accounted 
for his silence and bewildered gaze. She gave him water 
to drink, and laid her cold hands on his fevered forehead. 

“Go to bed, my son,” she said, “ and try to sleep. 
God give you sleep ! ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XXII. 


A FUNERAL SERVICE. 

The next day the Stundists met together — a solemn 
and sad knot of mourners — to honour the memory of 
their leader and their first martyr. All were present ; 
both old and young. Even those who had timorously 
absented themselves since Loukyan’s arrest were ani- 
mated by his death to rejoin their comrades. When 
Ooliana and Paul entered the house where they assem- 
bled it was already full. Paul wished to take a place by 
the door, but the little congregation made way for him 
to the table, spread with a white cloth, on which lay 
the Bible and hymn-book ; and bread and wine for the 
simple rite of the Lord's Supper, which was to be sol- 
emnly partaken of by the brotherhood before dispersing. 
Old Kondraty, one of the first converts in Knishi, was 
seated at the table, and he offered the book to Paul to 
conduct the service ; but he shook his head in refusal. 
It was natural that he, who. had been present at Lou- 
kyan’s death, should be too much overcome to be able 
to take Loukyan’s post. The service was accordingly 
led by Kondraty, who, though not an eloquent man, 
was intelligent and well versed in the New Testament. 

A psalm was sung, and then Kondraty opened the 
New Testament and began to read clearly, but with a 
peasant’s slowness, and with here and there a mispro- 
nunciation, which no one but Paul remarked. 

And the word of God increased, and the number 
of disciples multiplied in Jerusalem greatly ; and a great 
187 


i88 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


company of the priests were obedient to the faith. 
And Stephen, full of faith and power, did great wonders 
and miracles among the people. 

Then there arose certain of the synagogue, disputing 
with Stephen. And they were not able to resist the 
wisdom and the spirit by which he spake. Then they 
suborned men, which said, ‘ We have heard him speak 
blasphemous words against Moses and against God.’ 

“ And they stirred up the people, and the elders, and 
the scribes, and came upon him, and caught him, and 
brought him to the Council, and set up false witnesses, 
which said, ‘ This man ceaseth not to speak blasphemous 
words against this holy place and the law ; for we have 
heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth shall destroy 
this place, and change the customs which Moses de- 
livered unto us.’ 

‘ ‘ And all that sat in the Council, looking steadfastly 
on him, saw his face as it had been the face of an angel.” 

Dead silence reigned in the room. Under the im- 
pression of recent events, this narration had gained a 
peculiar significance. The cases were so similar. It 
seemed as if the tale was told, not of Stephen, so long 
since dead, but of Loukyan, their leader, who a few 
weeks ago taught them with his living voice. The per- 
secuting Jews, were they not the members of the ortho- 
dox church ? The elders and the scribes were the clergy 
and the officials who, unable to confute his teaching by 
arguments, had seized him and cast him into prison. 

Both men and women began to weep. Covering his 
face with his hands Paul shed silent tears, which relieved 
for a time his throbbing brain. The bright, joyous 
face of the dying Loukyan dispelled for the moment his 
doubts and sorrows. 


A FUNERAL SERVICE. 


89 


Kondraty went on reading slowly, omitting nothing. 
The long historical speech made by Stephen somewhat 
relieved the agitation of the audience. The sobbings 
ceased ; sighs were heard less often. All listened 
patiently and with deep attention. But the tragical 
catastrophe came at last. 

It is not Stephen standing before his judges ; it is 
Loukyan sternly denouncing his persecutors for being 
the betrayers and murderers of Christ, the just One. 
The persecutors are cut to the heart, and are gnashing 
their teeth in rage. They are Paissy and his colleagues. 
The place is not the Sanhedrim in Jerusalem, but a 
Russian Court, with a green-covered table surrounded 
by Russian priests and officials, before whom Loukyan is 
standing. 

All faces grew pale. Some with trembling hands 
wiped the perspiration from their brows. Moans and 
sighs were heard again. In the closely crowded room 
a burning tension was felt, as if the whole drama was 
developing before their eyes. The reader went on : — 

“But he, being full of the Holy Ghost, looked up 
steadfastly into heaven and saw the glory of God, and 
Jesus standing on the right hand of God, and said, 
‘ Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man 
standing on the right hand of God.' 

“ Then they cried out with a loud voice and stopped 
their ears, and ran upon him with one accord, and cast 
him out of the city and stoned him.” 

Kondraty’s voice failed him. It was too real. The 
grief of the whole audience broke out afresh. At last, 
in broken accents and sobbing breath, he read : — 

“And they stoned Stephen, calling upon God and 
saying, ‘ Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.’ 


190 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


And he kneeled down, and cried with a loud voice, 
‘Lord, lay not this sin to their charge.' And when he 
had said this he fell asleep.” 

They killed him ! they killed our own dear one ! ” 
cried Faraska, the wife of Demyan, and immediately 
cries and lamentations filled the room. The suppressed 
excitement burst out again. Kondraty was distressed. 
Above all, he wished to avoid hysterical emotion. 
He stood up, waving his hands and addressing them ; 
but in the tumult his voice was inaudible. Paul, with a 
pallid face and reddened eyelids, rose from his seat, con- 
fronting the people. In an instant all was still. 

In a very simple manner, as simply as the story of the 
Crucifixion is told in the Gospels, Paul gave to them the 
account of Loukyan’s death and his last words. The 
sorrowing congregation were soothed into more tranquil 
grief. It was as if the benign and joyous spirit of Lou- 
kyan was among them. 

And now,” said Kondraty, when Paul finished, 
**we must choose another teacher and presbyter; one 
who can go to other churches, and visit them for us ; 
and take counsel with other presbyters and leaders. 
There is only one fitted for the post. You all know him. 
You can guess who it is. But we should like the elec- 
tion to be unanimous, and you shall consider of it for a 
week. I name Paul Rudenko.” 

** There is no one but Paul,” exclaimed a few voices. 

‘■‘Let it be well thought of, and well prayed over,” 
said Kondraty. 

But Paul rose again, and confronted the congregation 
with a face as pale as death. He had foreseen this, yet 
had hoped that Kondraty might be chosen as presbyter, 
as he had been a member of their community from the 


A FUNERAL SERVICE. 


I9I 

first. It was impossible for him to fill this post. All 
looked at him anxiously. He must speak now. With 
a great effort he commanded his wandering thoughts. 

** Brothers ! ” he began. 

His eyes were dull and his voice thick. The congre- 
gation was puzzled. In the back seats they stood up to 
see and hear him better. 

Brothers ! ” he repeated, in a firmer voice, striving 
hard to subdue his agitation, I am grateful for all your 
goodness. But I dare not accept this office. Kondraty 
ought to succeed Loukyan. It would be useless to elect 
me. No inducement on earth could persuade me to be 
your teacher.” 

His voice sank, and he added — 

I am not worthy to be the least among the brethren ! ” 

The last words burst out involuntarily, as a cry of 
despair. They were caught only by Kondraty and 
Ooliana. The congregation did not hear them; but 
there was something in Paul’s manner which made it 
clear that this refusal of office was not made from 
modesty, real or assumed. No one dared to remon- 
strate with him, or urge him to retract his decision. But 
what could be the meaning of this refusal, so decisive, 
and so incomprehensible ? 

“ What is to be done?” whispered one to another; 
** whom shall we elect ? ” 

Brethren,” said Kondraty, ** let us postpone this af- 
fair. God will enlighten'and instruct us all. Let us in 
the meanwhile pray earnestly to Him that He will guide 
and support us through all our trials.” 

Nobody replied. The Lord’s Supper was partaken of, 
according to their simple rites ; and the congregation 
dispersed. Paul had left as soon as he finished his 
speech. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


A DISASTROUS WINTER. 

To the burden of his inward conflict was now added 
a load of misunderstanding of Paul’s conduct. His re- 
fusal of the leadership provoked much gossip, and many 
fantastic conjectures. Some said Paul had committed a 
crime ; and remorse, and the dread of being found out, 
made him shrink from such a post. Others insisted that 
he was studying so much that he fancied himself a 
learned man, and would perhaps found a new sect of his 
own. Others again said he was afraid ; Loukyan’s death 
had stricken him with dread of the same fate. 

Not being able to master his unbearable doubts, and 
unwilling to disturb his mother with them, Paul came to 
the unfortunate conclusion to consult Father Vasili, who 
was the only man in Knishi that had had any experience 
in theological questions. It was possible he might know 
some refutation of the objections Valerian had raised in 
his mind. He took a handsome present in his hand, 
which he left in the kitchen with the Matoushka, and 
presented himself before Father Vasili. 

The Batushka was astonished to see him, but made 
him very welcome, and bade him sit down. He was 
not a proud priest, and always received his parishioners 
in a homely and hospitable manner. They forgave him 
many faults for this condescension. 

“I am glad to see you, my son,” he said ; what 
can I do for you? I cannot interfere about Karpo, and 
192 


A DISASTROUS WINTER. 


193 


Panass, and Halya. No ! no ! you should have stayed 
among us in our Holy Mother Church ; and I should 
have blessed your marriage with Halya before this.” 

“It is not that,” said Paul sorrowfully; “ I have 
given up Halya. But I came to ask you a few questions. 
Father. I have been talking to a man, a learned man, 
who seems to know everything ; and he tells me the 
Gospels are not authentic, so the scholars say, and were 
not written by St. Matthew, and St. Mark, and St. Luke, 
and St. John. And it seems to me there are things in 
the New Testament not true.” 

“ How? What? ” interrupted the Batushka, his face 
reddening with anger; “ not true ! Oh ! this comes of 
leaving your Church ! First a heretic, and then — you 
villain — an infidel. These are your thoughts ” 

“But I want to know — I only came to ask you,” 
stammered Paul. 

Father Vasili would not hear another word. 

“Get out of my sight! This very moment I You 
aspostate ! You castaway ! ” he shouted, driving him 
out of the room as he might have driven a wild beast. 
As they passed tempestuously through the kitchen the 
Batushka caught sight of the two well-fed geese Paul had 
brought as a present ; and seizing them by their web-feet 
he flung them into the yard after his retreating parish- 
ioner. But the Matoushka quickly rectified this mis- 
take. 

The rumour of this interview spread quickly through 
the village. Father Vasili gave an account of it at the 
inn to Karpo, Okhrim, and the starosta Savely, which 
made them roar with laughter, yet inwardly foam with 
rage. The Stundists heard of it ; and some of them 
suspected Paul of returning to the Orthodox Church. 


194 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


Others believed that he had abjured religion altogether, 
and was, as Father Vasili declared, an atheist, like Vale- 
rian, who did not conceal his free-thinking opinions. 
Gradually their relations towards Paul changed. They 
shunned his society, and in a certain manner excluded 
him from their community. The orthodox, though they 
disapproved of the Stundists, accepted their judgment 
upon Paul, and in their turn avoided him. From being 
one of the chief and most popular persons in Knishi and 
Ostron, a few short months had made him a Pariah 
among his own people. 

Valerian heard the report, and rejoiced at it. Such 
a man as Paul would be a great addition to the ranks of 
the Propagandists, who were in secret seeking to teach 
the peasantry its rights, its powers, and the wrongs it 
suffered. Most of his colleagues were nobles, or men of 
the learned professions ; but here was a peasant of great 
intelligence, of uncommon eloquence, and of enthusi- 
astic temperament, who could do marvels of work among 
the peasants, so difficult to arouse. He sought Paul 
eagerly, but Paul shunned him as he would have shunned 
Satan in person. Valerian terrified him. Doubt was 
agonising, but what would conviction be? 

Ooliana could not fail to hear and see what was 
going on, and her patient heart was sorely tried by it. 
She had always looked forward to Paul being Loukyan’s 
successor, and had rejoiced at the prospect, though she 
knew well what a post of danger it would be; but now, 
instead of being the first among the little band of disci- 
ples, he was the last — even if he was counted among them 
at all. He continued to go to the meetings, but he sat at 
the door, making his escape as soon as Kondraty pro- 
nounced the last benediction. The elder men among the 


A DISASTROUS WINTER. 


195 


Stundists did not give him up. They remembered Lou- 
kyan, and the high expectations he had formed about 
Paul, and they stood unflinchingly in opposition to the 
general verdict against him. It seemed to them that the 
young man was passing through a period of deadly temp- 
tation and conflict, through which he would pass and 
come out more than conqueror. They would not allow 
the community to choose definitely a successor to Lou- 
kyan, and they decided to wait till Easter, Kondraty 
continuing to conduct the services. 

Paul saw that his mother suffered profoundly, though 
she tried to hide it from him. He could not speak to 
her of his doubts, and as a rule he became very silent. 
The inward struggle absorbed him, and he could see no 
end to it. After the acute anguish and horror of the 
first few days she fell into a state of apathy — a dull fri- 
gidity of mind which made him indifferent to everything 
and everybody. Once the starosta Savely spoke in his 
hearing of the new house Panass was building for Halya, 
but he listened listlessly. The Bible had promised 
Halya to him, and the promise was untrue. His heart 
was like a stone, and seemed to have lost the capacity 
of throbbing either with pain or pleasure. 

So the gloomy days and long nights of winter crawled 
slowly away. Paul worked hard during the daylight, 
but in the evening he sat idle and languid by the great 
stove, watching his mother as she sat knitting, with Tes- 
tament and hymn-book open on the table before her. 
His own Testament lay untouched on the shelf in his 
room, with the other books, which no longer possessed 
any charm for him. If they were not true, their false- 
hood was the worst falsehood in life. 

It was a disastrous winter in Knishi. Instead of heavy 


196 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


snow-storms there were torrents of rain. The river over- 
flowed its banks, flooding the fields on each side. The 
undrained marshes became swamps of mud. A murrain 
broke out among the cattle and sheep, and the richer men 
who owned flocks and herds suffered losses from which 
the poorer peasants were almost exempt. Old Karpo 
lost the bay mare which was to have been part of Kal- 
ya’s dowry, and a score or two of sheep besides. His 
losses amounted to almost as much as the dowry he had 
promised to give to his daughter. Panass began to go 
more often to see Yarina. 

Then typhus fever came, and entered the unventilated 
and often very dirty homes. One after another were 
stricken down by it, but chiefly the children. The Ma- 
toushka had not forgotten Paissy’s counsels. Everywhere 
she diligently traced the calamities that befell the people 
to the anger of God against the Stundists. When a 
child lay moaning on its death-bed, and at last the sobs 
ceased and the little eyes closed for ever, she said the 
saints and the Holy Mother had taken it away for fear it 
should become a heretic. The fever itself was the finger 
of God stretched out against those who w’ere indifferent 
to the orthodox religion. 

Father Vasili preached the same doctrine from the 
pulpit. Not for years had he addressed such large con- 
gregations. The most notorious drunkards in the place 
flocked to hear his tirades against the damnable Stun- 
dists. The dead village was being roused to life by the 
underground teaching of the Propagandists and the open 
secession of the Stundists; and the return to life is 
fraught with painful throes. Knishi was not the peace- 
ful, mouldering place it had once been. 

In former times Ooliana would have been the faithful, 


A DISASTROUS WINTER. 


197 


constant nurse at every sick-bed. She was renowned for 
her knowledge of remedies and alleviatives ; and, as 
there was no doctor within twenty versts, she had filled 
the post of one without fee. But no one sent for her 
now. Her cool touch and watchful gaze, and all but in- 
exhaustible patience and loving kindness, were wasting 
unclaimed, and in many cases refused, as if she had the 
evil eye. It was well for Knishi that Valerian was at 
hand. He was kept busy. 

“ Halya is stricken with the fever,” said Ooliana one 
day to Paul. He did not answer. 

*‘They will not let me see her,” she went on, but 
Valerian is attending her. He was here to-day to beg 
for a New Testament. Halya is raving for one. I sent 
her yours.” 

Good God ! ” cried Paul. It was a little well-worn 
book, in which he had marked his favourite verses, but 
he had not opened it now for weeks. It seemed to 
tempt him into lower depths of misery. 

“ Mother,” he said, ‘‘do you believe the Gospels are 
true?” 

The ice was broken. The mother and son looked into 
one another’s souls, and the winter of his doubt was 
over. 

“ Ah, my Paul ! ” she said, “you have listened to 
Valerian. He asked me the same question. But we are 
not called upon to believe in the Bible. It is God, it is 
Christ, we must believe in. There may be mistakes in 
the Gospels, there are spots in the sun. It is not the 
Gospels that save us, but our Lord Christ.” 

“ But if it is a fable ? ” suggested Paul. 

“ It is no fable ! ” she exclaimed. “ Who could in- 
vent such a fable as that God so loved the world that He 


198 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW, 


gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in 
Him should not perish but have everlasting life ? There 
are fables about God, but not like that. It could not 
have entered the heart of man to invent that.” 

She spoke with strong conviction ; and her sincere, 
guileless face, pale with the winter’s seclusion, glowed 
with fervour. 

Oh, if I had never heard Valerian ! ” cried Paul. 

Ah ! I have heard him,” she answered, ‘^and I 
showed to him the words of our Lord : ‘ I thank Thee, 

O Father, that Thou hast hid these things from the wise 
and learned, and hast revealed them unto babes. Even 
so. Father, for so it seemed good in Thy sight.’ And I 
read to him too the words of the apostle Paul : * For 

the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolish- 
ness, but unto us which are saved it is the power of God. 
For it is written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, 
and will bring to nothing the understanding of the pru- 
dent. Where is the wise ? where is the scribe ? where 
is the disputer of this world ? Hath not God made fool- 
ish the wisdom of this world ? ’ And again I read to 
him : ‘ Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have 

entered into the heart of man the things which God 
hath prepared for them that love Him. But God hath 
revealed them unto us by his Spirit ; for the Spirit 
searcheth all things, even the deep things of God. For 
what man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit 
of man which is in him ? Even so the things of God 
knoweth no man, but the spirit of God. But the natural 
man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for 
they are foolishness unto him; neither can he know 
them, because they are spiritually discerned.’ These 
and other sayings I showed to him.” 


A DISASTROUS WINTER. 


199 


‘‘And what did Valerian Petrovitch say?” asked 
Paul. 

A fine sweet smile flitted across Ooliana’s face. 

“ He said ‘ Invincible ignorance,’ ” she replied, 
“ and we shook hands and parted good friends.” 

For a few minutes Paul remained silent. It seemed 
to him as if he had touched the hem of the wisdom of 
this world, and had been smitten almost to death by it. 
“The common people heard Christ gladly.” Did not 
he belong to the common people ? 

“Mother,” he said, “ Halya has my Testament. 
Give me yours.” 

She placed it in his hands, and pressed a kiss upon 
his cheek. He went away to his own room, and spent 
the night in silent study and prayer. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


A SIGN AND A DREAM. 

Halya’s marriage had been delayed by the attack of 
fever which laid her prostrate during many weeks ; and 
when she was finally pronounced by Valerian to be well 
and strong again, Lent had begun, during which double 
fees are demanded in the Orthodox Church for pro- 
nouncing the blessing upon a married couple. Neither 
Okhrim nor Karpo was willing to pay double fees. 

Paul was gradually retracing his steps towards his 
former faith. Once more he ventured to partake of the 
Lord’s Supper. He became again a constant attendant 
at the week-day meetings, as well as the Sunday ser- 
vices. But he took no part in them except as a silent 
listener. 

He had been at a weekly evening prayer-meeting, and 
was returning home alone, his mother having gone in to 
see Kondraty’s wife, who was ill. Reaching the border 
of tlie forest, he saw the dark figure of a woman sitting 
on a fallen tree. Paul did not recognise Halya, and 
would have passed her. He did not even recognise her 
when she rose and came forward to meet him, so altered 
was she by her illness. 

Paul ! ” she cried, “ Paul ! ” 

Her voice made him tremble, and he looked at her in 
bewilderment. 

“ Halya ! you here ! " he ejaculated. 

I was waiting for you,” she said. People tell me 


200 


A SIGN AND A DREAM. 


201 


all sorts of things about you — different things. So I 
wanted to ask you.” 

What about ? ” he asked, striving to speak calmly. 

“Are you going to give up the Stundists?” she 
asked. “Are you coming back to us? Valerian says 
you will never be the same again. I expected you would 
come and tell us, father and me. But you kept away ; 
and oh, Paul, I nearly died ! So I thought I will go 
myself.” She finished in a reproachful tone. 

“No,” said Paul, “ no. I could never drift back to 
your Orthodox Church. But it may be I shall leave the 
brethren.” 

Halya looked at him with wondering eyes. Why 
should he leave his brethren if he did not come back to 
the Orthodox Church? But she did not question him. 
The delicate feeling of a loving wDman told her there 
was something very sad and momentous in this enigmati- 
cal answer. In the twilight she saw how changed his 
face was. There was no boyishness left in it ; it was the 
face of a man who was going through a great sorrow. 

“ Tell me everything,” she exclaimed in a burst of 
sympathy, and clasping his hand in hers. “ Perhaps I 
shall understand. Why are you so sad always ? Is it 
for my sake ? ” 

“You could not understand it, child,” he answered 
softly. 

“ I shall ! Try me only,” she persisted. 

They were standing under a wide-spreading oak, 
which threw its bare branches far against the evening 
sky. The wind was playing among the fine lace-like 
twigs, which were showing a little sign of breaking into 
buds. In a few weeks the boughs would be green with 
leaves. 


202 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


I have been like this tree,” he said, dead with the 
winter. If a worm had been gnawing at its roots it 
would never have lived again. And a worm has been 
gnawing at the root of my faith ; if I cannot cast it out I 
shall never live again.” 

She did not understand him, but she saw that he 
suffered. 

Oh! my love ! ” she cried, ‘‘why should you suffer 
like this. But I love you the more for it now.” 

She suddenly flung her arms round his neck, and he 
felt her breath upon his cheek. 

“ Only tell my father you are leaving the Stundists, 
and Panass shall never see me again,” she murmured. 

“ My darling, do you love me still? ” he said. “ I 
thought you had quite given me up and forgotten me.” 

“ Don’t be foolish ! ” replied Halya tenderly. “ I told 
my father to-day that life is nothing to me without you ; 
and that I would rather drown myself than marry 
Panass. Only you come and say you will leave the 
Stundists. And listen, Paul, in your ear. Panass will 
marry Yarina, for she is in love with him, and my dowry 
is all lost.” 

“Halya!” he said, “I could never go back to the 
Church. The orthodox priests have killed my dear 
Loukyan : and could I ask for their blessing ? Never ! 
That could never come to pass ! ” 

“But father and I had nothing to do with killing 
him ! ” answered Halya. 

She sank down on the ground, and tears streamed 
from her eyes. All she had been dreaming and hoping 
for, which seemed almost realised, was dispelled sud- 
denly by Paul’s words. Yes ! he could never return to 
a Church that had killed his friend. 


A SIGN AND A DREAM. 


203 


‘‘ Halya, my beloved ! ” whispered Paul, bending 
over her. But at that moment the sound of cart wheels 
and the hoof-beats of a horse were heard coming along 
the road. Halya sprang to her feet at once. 

<‘Hide yourself,” she exclaimed, *^we must not be 
seen together.” 

He disappeared hastily into the forest. 

When the cart passed by, and the sound of wheels 
died away, Paul came back to the oak tree. But Halya 
was gone. He followed slowly along the footpath she 
must have taken, feeling that as long as he trod in her 
footsteps he had not altogether parted from her. He 
wished he had asked her for his Testament, which she 
still kept in her possession. Was it only in the delirium 
of fever she had wished for it? Paul felt sad; but it 
was a quiet and tender sadness which had nothing in 
common with the dull, sullen apathy which for so many 
weeks had possessed his soul. This had been gradually 
passing away; and now the unexpected meeting with 
Halya had quite dispelled the cloud. Her tenderness, 
and her decision never to marry Panass, had refreshed 
and quickened his arid spirit as a warm, abundant 
show’er refreshes a field scorched by the sun. Halya 
loved him, and him only, for his own sake simply. God 
would yet give her to him. 

Yes ! Loukyan was right. God is love ; and where 
there is love among men there is God. All blessings 
come from the heart of God. And not only by means 
of books did God speak to the soul of man, but by all 
the joy and happiness which come to it. Halya’s love, 
his mother’s love, God’s love flooded his inmost spirit 
with unspeakable joy. 

Absorbed in these thoughts, he strayed from the path. 


204 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


and was soon wandering amid the tangled brushwood 
of the forest, stepping mechanically over the spreading 
roots of the trees. A bird, frightened by his footsteps, 
flew off its roosting-place, fluttered about in the obscure 
gloom, and rising in the air over the trees for a minute, 
swooped down heavily among the bushes. This roused 
his attention. Through the dark, interlacing branches 
over-head he could see the clear vault of the sky. From 
the deeper obscurity of the forest the stars shone more 
brightly than in the open fields, and seemed to look down 
upon him with loving eyes. Paul gazed at them for a 
long time. 

‘‘It is like looking into Halya’s eyes,” he thought to 
himself. 

He had already missed the way to Ostron, and now 
tried to make a road for himself, guided by the pole- 
star. Suddenly he saw before him a glade he had never 
seen before, though the forest was familiar ground to 
him. Much timber had been sold last autumn, and the 
wood-cutters had been busy all the winter. The glade 
stretched before him, every fallen tree and every shrub, and 
the brown heads of dead hemlock were glistening in a fine 
bead-like frost, whilst the steady rays of the moonlight 
shone in silvery streams upon them. Every shade of 
colour disappeared as if melted in this silvery shining. 
The green grass, the brown hemlock, the dark rough 
trunks of the trees, all seemed chiselled and graved out 
in pure silver, like the silver kingdom of a fairy tale. 

In the middle of the glade rose a low hillock, on 
which lay two or three fallen trees. Paul’s feet carried 
him there, and he stood motionless, looking round in 
wonder and admiration. 

He was completely surrounded by trees, shutting out 


A SIGN AND A DREAM. 


205 


all other scenes except the glade. There was no sign of 
a human habitation. He was quite alone in the presence 
of that deep, pure sky, with its loving and searching 
eyes. He felt as if he was lifted up to it as on the open 
palm of a giant’s hand. All nature was sleeping. Only 
the watchful stars scintillated tranquilly, and looked 
down upon him kindly from blue, unfathomable depths. 
A warm, simple, child-like emotion took possession of 
him. It was the first time since his conversation with 
Valerian that the dull chilling feeling of doubt was re- 
placed by an outburst of filial confidence in God. He 
lifted up his face to the heavens above him. 

“ Oh ! my Father ! ” he ejaculated, Thou who hast 
made the sky and covered it with stars, and made the 
earth and filled it with life, teach me how to understand 
Thee.” 

He knelt down and prayed fervently, passionately, as 
he had done in the first days of his conversion. Yet 
it was not a prayer ; it was rather a candid confession, a 
living outpouring of his soul to a living Being. The 
conviction that God heard him grew as his passionate, 
vehement, incoherent monologue went on. Soon he was 
not satisfied with his outpouring. He paused and listened 
attentively. His impassioned soul longed for an answer. 
He was waiting for a sign. 

The night was wonderfully calm. The frost was 
slight. The moon poured down its silvery rays. The 
motionless air stirred neither the withered hemlock nor 
the blades of grass. 

A soft warm breeze passed for a moment over his 
eager, upturned face. It stirred his hair like the touch 
of a tender hand, and died away. He knew not whence 
it came, nor whither it went. 


2o6 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


is every one that is born of the Spirit,” said a 
voice within him. 

Paul trembled. The sign he had prayed for, which 
he hardly dared to ask, had been granted to him. His 
eyes filled with tears ; his heart melted with joy. God 
had spoken to him. 

His whole soul was penetrated with new life and 
vigour. No trace of doubt was left. The true light had 
shone upon his darkness, and the shadows fled away. 
Henceforth, he would walk in the light, and be a child 
of the light. 

No more would questions of genealogies, and strifes 
of words, and perverse disputings, trouble him. He 
knew that the Spirit of God had come to him. He could 
doubt it no more than he could doubt his own existence. 

He felt unspeakably happy. He longed to see his 
mother, and to tell her and the brethren the blessing that 
had been granted to him. But he felt so tired he could 
hardly move. 

He resolved to rest for a few minutes. Sitting down, 
and leaning against the trunk of a tree, he listened to the 
eerie sounds of the night, and gazed dreamily down the 
moon -lit glade. A branch cracked, and fell in the for- 
est. A marmot whistled afar off. Under the brush- 
wood a hedgehog moved cautiously, scenting the air with 
its sharp little snout, either for prey or danger. It 
pricked up its bristles, and looked sharply about it. In 
an instant an owl flew out of a tree, and making a half 
circle in the air, swooped down upon the little animal, 
and catching him in her claws, flew away to her nest. 
Paul would have rescued the hedgehog, but his limbs felt 
heavy. He could not prevail upon himself to be up and 
stirring. 


A SIGN AND A DREAM. 


207 


The owl, meanwhile, appeared to come close within 
his reach. If he stretched out his hand he could catch 
it. But it did not seem to care for his presence, and be- 
gan to clean its wings with its beak. Presently he saw 
it was no owl at all, but Father Vasili, and the wings 
were a brown silk cassock, which the Batushka wore on 
grand occasions. His feet were in leather boots, trimmed 
with fur and with low heels. 

I’d better get away from here as soon as possible,” 
thought Paul ; the Batushka looks very angry to-day.” 

But Father Vasili was already beckoning to him with 
his hand. 

** Come here! come here!” he repeated; not 
authentic, did you say? You thought you were an 
apostle yourself, so you could run down the blessed Gos- 
pels ” 

Paul rose, anxious to pacify him, and to say his 
doubts troubled him no more. But Father Vasili floated 
away from him as he drew nearer, still, however, beck- 
oning with his hand. 

**Wait a bit!” cried Paul. But the Batushka did 
not listen, but continued to float soundlessly away through 
the air. 

Suddenly the Batushka and the forest disappeared. 
Paul found himself in a deep dark cavern, with a low, 
rocky vault. He was shivering from the penetrating 
dampness, which seemed to pierce through to his bones. 
The thick, heavy air, was motionless. Not a sound, not 
the faintest murmur was audible. All was mute and 
darksome. A voice said to him, * Death reigns here ! ’ 
He wandered to and fro, but everywhere he felt only the 
narrow confines of a tomb. At last he sat down ex- 


2o8 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


hausted on the floor of the grave. All at once a voice 
said in his ear — 

“ Arise ! let us go hence.” 

It was Halya’s voice. Paul rose quickly. She stood 
before him in a pilgrim’s garb, with a staff in her one 
hand, and a chaplet in the other. Her face was grave 
and stern. She did not even look at him, but glided 
forward, and Paul followed unquestioningly. But 
though they walked a long time the cavern remained the 
same ; it seemed to move with them. The same thick 
walls and rocky vault surrounded them like a circle of 
stone. 

<‘What is this? "cried Paul. We are tramping 
along always in the same place. We shall never get 
out of this grave.” 

‘‘How can you say so? ” asked Halya reprovingly; 
“ do you not see we are already there? ” 

He lifted up his head, and saw that the path through 
the kingdom of Death had led him to a church porch, 
with a steeple surmounted by a cross, which glittered in 
the moonlight. 

“ Why ! ” exclaimed Paul ; “ but it is a church ! ” 

“Yes! a church,” said Halya, “our own church. 
Did I not tell you I wanted you to go there? ” 

“ Leave me alone,” he cried, “ I would sooner return 
to the grave.” 

“ Come in,” urged Halya, “it is the house of God.” 

“No,” he said; “they have made the house of 
prayer a den of thieves. I will not go in.” 

He broke away from her with vehemence. 

Laughter and discordant songs rang through the still- 
ness of the night, and woke Paul from his slumber. It 
was a party of half-drunken peasants going home from a 


A SIGN AND A DREAM. 209 

public-house where they had been keeping the eve of 
their patron saint’s day. 

Paul rose and rubbed his eyes. His clothes were wet 
through, and his limbs benumbed. He waited to let the 
merry band of boon companions pass by, and then he 
hastened home, deeply impressed by his vivid dream. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


THE PATRON SAINT’S DAY. 

During the preceding week Father Paissy had been 
making arrangements with Father Vasili for himself 
preaching a sermon against the Stundists on the patron 
saint’s day. The starosta Savely had been summoned to 
Kovylsk to receive important instructions. 

** The Consistory expects that every Stundist in Knishi 
shall be present on this occasion,” said Father Paissy. 

Mind ! everybody,” he added sternly. ** I will show 
no indulgence to anyone who connives at the heresy.” 

Savely scratched his head behind his ear. 

<^How is it to be done, your reverence?” he re- 
monstrated. ** If they won’t go I cannot force them, 
with none but lame Ermoshka to help me.” 

‘^Call a private meeting of the Mir,” said Father 
Paissy, “ and make what arrangements you choose ; but 
come they must.” 

The meeting of the Mir was held in the District 
Court House, not in the open air as usual, when any of 
the villagers could be present. On Savely explaining 
the object of the meeting, nobody said a word. The 
peasants sullenly kept silence. 

What a nuisance they are ! ” said Karpo at last. 

They give quiet peaceable folks no rest.” 

*‘That is true,” agreed Savely. They hang round 
my neck like a stone.” 

'‘But why should we humour them?” asked old 


210 


THE PATRON SAINT’s DAY. 


2II 


Sheelo. Let us drag them to church by force, or drive 
them in with sticks, like a set of troublesome beasts, as 
they are.” 

* ‘ Why should we be so considerate for these vaga- 
bonds?” said Okhrim. ‘‘They have given us trouble 
enough.” 

It was settled that early the next morning the starosta 
Savely, with the members of the Mir and some younger 
men who would be summoned privately to their aid, 
should visit the houses of the Stundists, and, driving 
them to church, lock them in there until the hour of the 
morning service. Soon after daybreak, therefore, the 
villagers divided into two bands : one to go to Ostron, 
to collect Paul, Ooliana, and other heretics who lived 
between that hamlet and the church ; and the second to 
proceed to the opposite end of the parish for the same 
purpose. The younger men greatly enjoyed the prospect 
of a resistance and disturbance. 

“ Come, boys — all and everybody ! ” cried Panass. 
“ Let us flog the Stundists to church like naughty chil- 
dren. I’ll go for Paul Rudenko.” 

The crowd divided as it had been arranged. Many 
more joined them as they passed along the village street. 
The secret had been so well kept that this order from 
the Consistory caused universal astonishment. A few 
months ago it would have excited their anger and in- 
dignation, but the sermons of Father Vasili and the in- 
sinuations of the Matoushka had borne fruit. The 
Stundists had brought down calamities and vengeance 
from Heaven on the whole community. 

At sight of Paul’s homestead the crowd stepped out 
more quickly, as soldiers rushing to an assault. It was 
a prosperous and peaceful-looking dwelling. The barns 


212 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


and sheds around it were better kept than any other farm 
in Knishi. The fold-yard was orderly, and a garden — 
a rare thing among them — lay on one side of the house. 
The fold-gate was open, for the cattle had just gone out 
to the well, and the crowd rushed in boisterously. 

Paul was sitting with his mother in his own little 
room, which looked out into the garden. He had found 
her, when he returned from the forest, lying asleep on 
the bench in the kitchen. She was sitting up for him, 
and had fallen asleep out of sheer fatigue. He woke 
her up and told her briefly about his prayer, and the 
sign given to him in the forest. Thank God ! ” she 
exclaimed. Now at last I know that you will never 
forsake our Lord Christ.” 

She had gone to bed in profound happiness, such as 
she had never experienced in her life. Her son was 
now indeed hers through all eternity. “For if we suf- 
fer with Christ, we shall also reign with Him ! ” she 
murmured, as she feel asleep. 

Paul was now telling her his story in all its details, 
whilst she listened with glistening eyes and fervid face. 
He had just finished his curious dream, and they were 
conjecturing what its meaning could be, or if it had any 
meaning at all. 

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by the sound 
of loud rough voices, coming nearer and nearer. 

“ What can it be ? ” said Ooliana. “ A noise in the 
street — a fire, perhaps.” 

Paul went into the outer room, looking into the fold- 
yard. 

“ Here are a throng of people rushing into our yard,” 
he called out. “ What can be the matter ? ” 

A loud, heavy knock at the door answered him. He 


THE PATRON SAINT* S DAY. 


213 


threw it open, and found himself in front of an unruly 
crowd ready to break into his house. 

What do you want, neighbours ? ” he asked. 

“ We want you, and your old witch-mother, and all 
of your brood ! ” shouted Panass, seizing him by the 
shoulder. Paul freed himself by a sharp, unexpected 
movement, and Panass staggered back upon the nearest 
in the crowd. 

“Strike him down, boys!” he shouted again. 
“ Don’t let his evil eye fall on you. Strike him before 
your arms wither.” 

Several men rushed upon Paul. 

“But what do you want? What has happened?” 
asked Paul, in a quiet, untroubled voice. 

“ You are to come to church,” answered the starosta 
Savely, who had forced his way to the threshold, on 
which Paul stood. “ The Consistory have given orders. 
Father Paissy comes to-day to exorcise the Stundists — 
to cast out the devils that have taken possession of you.” 

“ To the church 1 ” exclaimed Paul, with such a joy- 
ful, yet surprised, expression on his face that the by- 
standers were struck by it. “ That is what my dream 
meant,” he thought to himself, and his heart exulted at 
this indubitable sign of the will of God. 

“Brothers!” he said, “I will go with you to the 
church; I, and my mother, and all the rest of us.” 

“How cunning he is!” cried Panass as the crowd 
fell back a little at this unexpected acquiescence. 

Paul did not hear him. He turned away to speak to 
Ooliana, who was just come to the door. 

“ Mother! ” he whispered in excitement, “ now it is 
quite clear what was meant by my dream.” 

“ What is it? ” she inquired. 


214 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


They are come to compel us to go into the church,” 
he answered. “ The Consistory orders it. You know 
we must not resist. We will not make them take us by 
force.” 

No, no ! ” she replied. 

Those few words were exchanged in an undertone. 
Then they faced the crowd hand in hand. 

‘‘You may go, friends,” said Ooliana, after bowing 
thrice to the crowd. “ We will follow you to the 
church, and bring all the brethren with us. Only give 
us time to collect them together.” 

She spoke in the kindly, cheerful voice so familiar to 
them all, for there was not a household which she had 
not entered as a helper or consoler ; and the fighting 
disposition, even of the young men, was dispelled by 
her tranquil courage. They looked at one another, and 
from Paul to his mother with great curiosity. This con- 
duct on their part was a riddle which needed a solution. 

“ Are you coming back to the Christian religion ? ” 
asked Koozka in a hesitating tone. “ We thought we 
could hardly drive you in with whips and scourges. 
Now all of a sudden you seem glad to go.” 

“ We never have forsaken the Christian religion,” an- 
swered Paul. “ And we obey the laws, when they are 
not opposed to God’s commandments. If you will leave 
us in peace we will gather the brethren together in Kon- 
draty’s cottage, and come without fail in good time to 
church.” 

“Savely,” said Ooliana, “you have known me all my 
life. Did I ever tell you a lie ? Trust Paul and me, 
and not one of the Stiindists shall fail to be there. If 
they refuse, I will send you word in time to compel 
them to obey the order.” 


THE PATRON SAINT’ S DAY. 


215 


will trust you, Ooliana,” replied Savely. 

Ooliana locked the house, and again bowing to the 
crowd in three different directions passed through the 
midst of them with Paul beside her. The people 
straggled after them, in warm discussion of their ex- 
traordinary conduct. They watched them go from one 
house to another, and soon the Stundists, by twos and 
threes, made their way to Kondraty’s cottage. 

When all were assembled Paul stood up, and with 
simple eloquence told them of the great deliverance 
wrought for his soul by God. , He did not disturb them 
by telling what doubts had assailed him. But he spoke 
with full assurance of the revelation of God to his in- 
most spirit. 

‘‘And now,” he cried, “who will come with me to 
testify to God’s truth before Father Paissy and our 
Batushka : ” 

“Everyone of us,” they answered. 

“ But only half of us are here,” said Ooliana. 

At that moment a great noise was heard again in the 
village street. The second band of men, commanded 
by old Karpo, which had been gathering the Stundists 
from the other end of the parish, was returning from 
their search. The little congregation in Kondraty’s 
cottage hurried into the street. In front of the ap- 
proaching crowd marched Karpo with Demyan beside 
him, whose face was covered with bruises, and whose 
caftan was torn in several places. He had no hat on, 
and his hands were tied behind his back with a rope, 
the ends of which were held firmly by two peasants, as 
if he had been a mad bull. He resisted all the way, 
and was driven on with blows and pushes. Behind him 
came a little cluster of men and women, frightened and 


2I6 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


lamenting, but not resisting as Demyan did. Ooliana 
stepped forward. 

“ Karpo,” she said, there is no need for this vio- 
lence. Let me speak to Demyan, and he will resist no 
longer.” 

“It’s you and your son we want,” growled Karpo. 
“Without the ringleaders the rebels are nothing. Get 
hold of them, boys.” 

“Bethink yourself,” said Ooliana, “your church is 
not a police-station, where people are dragged by force. 
My brothers and sisters,” she added, addressing the 
Stundists, “ we have decided to go quietly to church. 
There is no sin in that. God is there as He is every- 
where, and our fathers and mothers worshipped Him 
there. We can go there without disobeying Him. 
Nay ! we are bound to go if the Mir commands us ; 
only we cannot bow to the icons, or pray to the saints. 
Let us then go peaceably, and listen to the sermon 
Father Paissy is going to preach. We may learn some- 
thing from it. At any rate we shall not sin against 
God, or cause any of our fellow-men to sin against 
Him.” 

“But why didn’t you say all that before?” said 
Karpo. 

“ If you had come and told us what the Mir com- 
manded,” answered Ooliana, “ no one would have re- 
sisted.” 

“That’s true,” cried Demyan. “ Loukyan always 
said * Obey the Mir, if it does not order you to disobey 
God.’ But I did not understand. They caught me 
and tied my hands, and drove me before them to wor- 
ship the icons. I will submit myself, now I know it is 
the Mir.” 


THE PATRON SAINT’ S DAY. 


217 


The band of persecutors stood still, confused and 
ashamed. They were unwilling to confess their own 
stupidity in not making it clear what was demanded of 
the Stundists. 

“ Oo lew ! 00 lew ! ” was suddenly heard in a wild 
wail. It was the crazy imbecile of the village, Av- 
diushka, who was running down the street, waving his 
hands. “ Oo lew ! 00 lew ! Knock them down ! kill 
them ! burn, burn, burn them ! ” he muttered, shaking 
his tangled head, and disappearing as suddenly as he 
had come upon the scene. 

*‘The young devil ! ” cried Karpo, to frighten us 
just now ! ” 

The crowd began to laugh, and gradually dispersed, 
while Demyan and the rest of the Stundists went into 
Kondraty’s cottage to get ready for the- enforced attend- 
ance at church. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


EXORCISING THE STUNDISTS. 

The church was crowded. Everyone anticipated 
something extraordinary ; and none but childish old 
people and helpless invalids remained at home. When 
Halya came, accompanied by her parents, the place was 
almost full. She did not want to occupy a conspicuous 
position, and she pushed through the crowd to a corner 
where few could see her. Yarina followed her closely. 

They say,” whispered Yarina, the Stundists will 
be made to kneel in the middle of the church, and to 
confess their sins before all the people. Then Father 
Paissy will cast out the devils that possess them. It will 
be awful ! They’ll writhe about, and foam at their 
mouths ; and they will be like dead men and women 
when the devils leave them.” 

Is it possible ? ” cried Halya in the utmost alarm. 

** The diatchok* says so,” continued Yarina ; ** they 
will be forced upon their knees, and ordered to say all 
sorts of things against themselves. And if they won’t 
the clergy will burn them with candles.” 

In the church ? How can you talk such nonsense ? ” 
said Halya indignantly. 

<‘It is quite true,” Yarina persisted, <‘the diatchok 
told me ; and he is the man to know. As to your Paul 
he has already got a good thrashing. He would not 
come to church. * You may kill me, but I will not 

* The chanter of the Psalms in the Russian church. 

218 


EXORCISING THE STUNDISTS. 219 

worship your idols,’ he said. You know he calls the 
icons idols.” 

Halya’s heart sank. Yes, Paul had called them idols 
to her. 

** What else ? ” she asked, “ go on, go on ! ” 

Yarina was silent because she had just seen Panass 
enter the church, and was trying to attract his notice. 

** Well, then ! he said, ‘ I will never worship your 
idols.’ They dragged at him, but he stood like a rock. 
They set upon him, and beat him, and he fared so 
badly at their hands that he is now lying at death’s door — 
one eye knocked out, and a leg and two ribs broken ” 

“What do you say? It is impossible,” murmured 
Halya, horror-stricken. 

“It is true,” said Yarina; “ godfather Terenty told 
me so. He himself set his leg, and put a compress on 
his eye.” 

At this moment the sound of triumphant and harmo- 
nious singing was heard above the murmur of voices in 
the church. All were silent. It was the mingled voices 
of men and women singing a solemn yet exultant hymn. 

The Stundists were marching in an orderly procession 
to the church, through the village street ; and every 
voice chimed in as they moved slowly along, Paul lead- 
ing with his clear, pure tenor. Savely, the starosta, who 
was in the church, went out instantly, with his lame as- 
sistant. The Stundists were coming on, with exultant 
faces, as though some scene of triumph lay before them. 

“ Silence ! you fools ! you madmen ! ” roared Savely ; 
“do you think I will stand this nonsense ? What do 
you mean by this howling ? ” 

“ Do you ask as a friend, or as the starosta? ” said 
Ooliana. 


220 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


“As your friend," he replied; “ Ooliana, I have 
always been your friend. Listen to me. Do not enrage 
Father Paissy, and our Batushka." 

“ We wish to show we are not afraid, or ashamed," an- 
swered Paul. 

“Then I forbid you as your starosta," said Savely; 
“and you boast that you keep the laws. I forbid all 
singing and uproar." 

“ Then we must obey," replied Paul, reluctantly, “ we 
are bound to obey you as our starosta." 

“ If you would only obey me altogether," said Savely 
mournfully, “all these troubles would come to an end. 
But you heretics are as obstinate as pigs and mules. 
Come along quietly now." 

Just before the singing ended an old-fashioned car- 
riage had driven up, and old General Nesteroff in his 
military uniform and badges, with his son Valerian, de- 
scended from it. Valerian had come for once to church, 
being deeply interested in this movement against the 
Stundists. He caught sight of Paul’s handsome, enthu- 
siastic face. 

“Good heavens ! " he muttered, “he is lost to our 
cause ! And what a loss ! " A way was made for the 
General and Valerian to the only seat in the church — a 
long black oak bench near the rood-screen, which shut 
off the high altar, and within which none but the priests 
may enter. On the rood-screen hung some dark, dis- 
coloured icons, so bedimmed by the fumes of the incense 
that scarcely a feature was distinguishable. The old 
General bowed devoutly before them ; but Valerian made 
no more sign of reverence than did the Stundists, who 
had entered the church immediately behind them. He 
took up his post in a corner from which he could have a 


EXORCISING THE STUNDISTS. 


221 


good view of the congregation. There the peasants 
stood, closely packed together. He saw their shaggy 
heads, and stolid, patient faces, their bent shoulders, as 
if they were always bearing a yoke. It was nearly mid- 
Lent. The women, who fasted more scrupulously than 
the men, were sallow and haggard-looking. The Stun- 
dists, who stood in a group about the middle of the 
church, were fresher and cleaner. They were in their 
workaday clothes, for this was one of the feasts so 
frequent in the Russian Church which they did not keep, 
as the rest of the villagers usually kept it, by idleness 
and drunkenness. Ooliana, who stood foremost among 
the women, wore a black silk handkerchief on her head, 
which framed her placid face something like a nun’s 
hood. Demyan’s wife was close behind her, with her 
boy in her arms — a little fellow of fifteen months, who 
could hardly be kept quiet. Several other of the Stun- 
dist women had been obliged to bring their children, 
having no one with whom to leave them. Valerian’s 
heart ached at the sight of the crowd before him. They 
were the sons and daughters of his own mother-country. 
Holy Russia ; poverty-stricken, ignorant, superstitious ; 
not knowing their rights as men, but living lives and 
dying deaths but little above the dumb brutes they dwelt 
amongst. 

Here they come!” cried Yarina to Halya, as the 
Stundists entered, and there is Paul himself 1 Heavenly 
Tzaritza ! How beautiful he is ! ” 

Halya opened her eyes, which she had closed with a 
lialf-fainting sensation. Yes ! Paul’s face was to her 
beautiful beyond words. The dark locks of hair fell 
over his broad forehead, and under them gleamed eyes 
full of the fire of courage and high emotion. There was 


222 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


no face like it amid all the faces that surrounded him. 
Paul looked round the church ; and for an instant Halya 
fancied his eyes met hers. But she was not sure, and 
her heart sank within her. 

He is not thinking of me ! ” she said to herself. 

She felt unhappy again. She pitied him so that she 
longed to let him know it. But he did not look her way 
again. 

Now the General had arrived the service began at 
once, Father Paissy and Father Vasili celebrating it to- 
gether. Father Vasili was so much excited that he made 
several mistakes. He had never seen his church so 
crowded, and his head felt giddy. For the same reason 
the diatchok chanted the Psalms out of tune. It was a 
long monotonous service, but very few prayed. Even 
among the Stundists none prayed save Ooliana. 

Her thoughts went back to the old days, when her 
father and mother had brought her here to worship God 
and the saints. The prayers to the saints were lodged 
in her memory. Then she recalled the times when she 
had come hither with her husband ; and her little son 
Paul clung to her skirts and bowed when she bowed. 
Those were precious days ; but they were the days of 
her ignorance. She had been afraid of death then, and 
terrified at the thought of the Day of Judgment. Now 
all that fear was gone. Love had cast out fear. The 
Lord God Almighty called her His daughter ; and she, 
looking trustingly into His unseen face, cried, “ Father ! ” 
She prayed silently, vvith tremulous lips and closed eyes, 
as she had never prayed before. 

The service was ended ; the curtain drawn ; and the 
priests went into the sacristy to divest themselves of their 
gold and embroidered vestments. The diatchok brought 


EXORCISING THE STUNDISTS. 


223 


a lectern and placed it in front of the rood-screen. 
There was a stir of expectation through the closely- 
packed congregation. In a few minutes Father Paissy 
appeared in a cassock and bowed slightly to the crowd. 
Father Vasili, with a humble mien, ventured to seat him- 
self on the same bench as the General. Both of the 
priests felt flattered by the presence of gentlefolks ; and 
Father Paissy intended to distinguish himself before them. 

** In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of 
the Holy Ghost ! ” 

The congregation stirred again and pressed forward. 
Some of them coughed nervously, as if they were going 
to speak. Father Paissy read his text emphatically. 

“ ‘ Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate Thee ? and 
am not I grieved with those that rise up against Thee ? ’ 

‘ I hate them with perfect hatred : I count them my 
enemies.’ 

So said David, the man after God’s own heart. Let 
us see, then, how David treated his enemies.” 

Father Paissy read solemnly and slowly the passages 
in the historical books of the Old Testament which de- 
scribe the torturing and the slaughter of the Amalekites 
and Moabites, and the inhabitants of the other cities 
conquered by David. 

Who now are the Amalekites, the Moabites, the ene- 
mies of God? Where do they dwell ? I will show them 
to you.” 

He pointed to the band of Stundists standing in the 
midst of the congregation ; and for a few seconds an 
intense stillness pervaded the church. 

“ Now listen to the command of God,” continued 
Paissy. * Go and smite Amalek, and utterly destroy 
all that they have, and spare them not ; but slay both 


224 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, 
camel and ass.’ When King Saul disobeyed the Word 
of God he was set aside from being king. Will our Tzar 
risk the vengeance of Almighty God ? Will you bring 
upon yourselves untold calamities for the sake of these 
enemies of His? Let me explain to you how they are 
the enemies of God.” 

He gave an explanation of the Stundist’s faith, 
strangely travestied ; and he proceeded to accuse them 
of great immorality. Here was an opportunity for him 
to display his learning before the General and Valerian ; 
and he made long quotations from the Fathers, with 
Greek and Latin phrases thrown in. The peasants stared 
at him. Was this the conjuration addressed to the dev- 
ils which had taken possession of the Stundists ? 

“ You see, my brethren,” said Paissy, smoothing 
down his long beard, and rubbing his white hands, ‘‘ you 
see what damning errors are taught by these false proph- 
ets. It is the darkness of ignorant heresy.” 

The orthodox congregation felt great darkness in their 
own minds ; and were quite ready to believe in his words. 

“And what are they doing? The holy icons, which 
have been the protection of you and your forefathers, 
they break into pieces, casting them into the fire, or us- 
ing them for covers for pots. The holy wafers they 
throw away ” 

A murmur of horror ran through the audience. The 
orthodox understood this. 

Paissy excited himself so much that he forgot the edu- 
cated men were listening to him, and began to abuse 
the Stundists soundly. At first indeed he called them 
by Biblical names — “Jezebel’s seed,” and “Sons of 
Baal ” ; but passing to a simpler phraseology, he de- 


EXORCISING THE STUNDISTS. 


225 


nounced them in a very primitive manner as ruffians, 
scoundrels, blackguards, hell-hounds. In the midst of 
this tirade his eyes fell upon the indignant and disgusted 
faces of the General and Valerian, who were evidently 
shocked by his coarseness. 

Paissy was confused, and stumbled in the middle of a 
sentence. He valued very highly the opinion of edu- 
cated people ; and the General was well known in Ko- 
vylsk, where he might spread an unfavourable report of 
his sermon. It concluded, therefore, rather weakly, as 
he tried to please both classes of his audience. Only 
Father Vasili was satisfied, even boundlessly delighted 
with all that was said. His owl-like face and little round 
eyes were not for a moment turned from the preacher ; 
and he munched with his lips as if he rolled some deli- 
cate morsel in his mouth at each well-chosen text or quo- 
tation, whispering to himself, ^‘Clever! it serves them 
right, the infidels ! ” 

“ Amen ! ” at last said Paissy ; and with another bow 
he disappeared into the sacristy. 

Shutting the door he fell into a chair, and sighed 
heavily. He was not satisfied with his sermon. Now it 
was over, and the opportunity lost, he thought of many 
excellent ideas and phrases that would have made it 
really eloquent. Surely the devil had bewildered him, 
and clouded his memory ! It was the presence of those 
damnable Stundists ; especially of that old witch, whose 
face, full of intelligence, had often caught his eye. 

Paissy was so absorbed in angry reflections that he did 
not notice that neither Father Vasili nor the diatchock 
had followed him into the sacristy. He sat alone gnaw- 
ing his under lip, and mourning over his lost opportunity. 


CHAPTER XXVIL 


Paul’s defence. 

The congregation did not disperse from the church. 
Something quite unforseen had happened. 

When Paissy had disappeared the assembled peasants 
lingered in perplexity. Was this all ? Why had he not 
abjured the Stundists, and exorcised them ? They had 
no clear ideas as to what the exorcism would be ; but 
they had expected something extraordinary. All they 
had got was an ordinary service and a sermon ! 

Halya looked across the church at Paul. His face 
was at one moment deadly pale, at the next flushed with 
crimson as from some inward struggle. There was a 
strange light in his eyes. Halya grew excited as if by 
some psychical or spiritual communication between them. 
She felt bewildered, yet not miserable. It seemed as if 
she was impelled to do something she shrank from, 
which made her shy and tremulous. Paul took a step or 
two forward, and cried out with an incredible effort. 

^‘Orthodox Christians! I ask your permission to 
speak to you.” 

Halya sobbed. The congregation gave a start. All 
eyes were fixed upon Paul Rudenko. 

Ah I you Anathema Maranatha 1 ” exclaimed Father 
Vasili angrily ; “ how could your accursed tongue speak 
in the temple of God? ” 

Valerian stepped out of his corner, and approached 
the Batushka. 


226 


PAUL S DEFENCE. 


227 


‘‘Let him speak,” he said persuasively ; “I have a 
great curiosity to hear him. And you can easily refute 
all he says. Besides, people will say you are afraid of 
being beaten in discussion with a Stundist,” he added in 
an undertone. 

“ What ! what ! ” exclaimed Father Vasili ; “ I afraid 
of being beaten by that ignorant peasant ! But I would 
rather ” 

He was about to say he would rather see him have a 
good thrashing, but he recollected in time to whom he 
was speaking, and said with unexpected indulgence — 

“Very well, Paul Rudenko, you may speak, and we 
will hearken. But it seems to me you are rather young 
for a preacher or a teacher.” 

No abuses could have damaged Paul with his audience 
so much as an allusion to his youthfulness. It was but 
a few years since he was a boy, and everybody knew it. 
His emotion was so great that for a few moments he 
could not utter a word. The circle of old familiar faces 
around him made him dumb. 

“ Don’t be afraid,” whispered Ooliana ; “ our Lord 
says, ‘ Take no thought how or what ye shall speak ; for 
it shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall 
speak. For it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of 
your Father which speaketh in you.’ ” 

Paul’s face grew pale and calm. 

“Lord! Thou who didst give speech to the dumb, 
teach me what to say that I may not dishonour Thy holy 
name 1 ” 

He thought he was speaking the words in his heart; 
but unconsciously he had pronounced them aloud. 

A wave of sympathy rushed through the audience in 
his behalf, and the familiar faces grew more friendly. 


228 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


His timidity vanished. He raised his head and spoke 
fluently and courageously, as if he was addressing an or- 
dinary Stundist gathering. 

“ Brothers ! ” he said, “it is not for an ignorant man 
like me to think of teaching you. I only wish to say a 
few words about our faith, which has been attacked in 
your hearing to-day. God, who is present everywhere, 
will hear me, and He will judge whether I speak the 
truth.” 

He paused for a moment to take breath. The crowd 
made room for him, and now he stood on the lowest step 
of the rood-screen, in full view of the whole congrega- 
tion. Halya pushed her way nearer to him, pressing 
forward Yarina at the same time. She could not lose a 
word he would say, or a movement he might make. 
This Paul was not a shy, timid lover, whom she could 
make miserable or happy by a word. He was a leader 
of men, a prophet ; one who could guide her steps on 
earth towards the heavenly goal. His Testament was 
hidden in her bosom, and she pressed her hands upon it 
as she crept nearer to him. 

“ It is true,” he went on, “ that we do not reverence 
the icons, for God’s commandment is plain — ‘ Thou 
shalt not make to thyself any graven image, or the like- 
ness of anything that is in heaven above, or on the earth 
beneath, or in the waters under the earth. Thou shalt 
not bow down to them, nor worship them.’ We must 
obey God rather than men. 

“It is true we do not pay dues to the priest, because 
we have one priest, the Lord Jesus Christ, who is ever at 
the right hand of God, making intercession for us. 

“It is true we do not pray to the saints. We pray 
only to God, who alone can hear us from all places, and 


Paul’s defence. 


229 

at all times. The saints were men like ourselves, and 
they are not present everywhere, as God is. 

It is true we do not keep the saints’ days as days of 
idleness or drunkenness. God says we must hallow one 
day in seven, fifty-two days in the year. But besides 
these Sabbaths, the Church says we must keep more than 
a hundred feasts. 

‘‘It is true we do not drink vodka, because it steals 
away the brains of men, and brings poverty and vice 
into the country. 

“ Let me tell you very simply what we believe. We 
believe that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Prince of 
Glory, King of Kings, and Lord of Lords, did, in very 
truth, come down from His heavenly palaces and live as 
we live on the earth. He became a servant, a working 
man, dwelling with common working people. Why? 
What for? Not to save us from toil, or hunger, or thirst. 
No ! He was a-hungered, and a-thirst, and weary often, 
like us. Not to save us from sorrow and death. No ! 
He wept, and was grieved, and was troubled in spirit, 
and died a shameful death. He came to save us from 
our sins, to make the drunken man sober, the thief 
honest. All sin flies from His presence. Envy, hatred 
and malice cannot dwell where He is. Pride, and covet- 
ousness, and selfishness wither away and perish where 
He reigns. Oh ! what a Paradise this earth would be 
if every man would let the Lord take away his sins ! ” 

The profound emotion, and the evident sincerity with 
which the young Stundist spoke, riveted the attention of 
all his hearers. Even Father Vasili listened with a grave 
face. 

“Our Lord came,” Paul continued, “to found a 
kingdom of love upon earth ; a new brotherhood in 


230 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


which all men, from the Tzar upon the throne to the 
miserable prisoner in the lowest dungeon, should be 
brothers. God is the Father of all, and in His sight 
there is no respect of persons. We are His sons, and 
brethren one of another. God is love, and he that 
dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. The 
rich man will share his goods with the poor, and 
the poor man will work heartily for the rich. The 
strong will protect the weak. Those who are happy will 
visit the sorrowful. The young will care for the old, 
and the old will counsel the young. That is the king- 
dom of heaven on earth, and its two laws are given by 
Jesus Christ our King, * As ye would that men should 
do to you, do ye also to them likewise ; ’ and the second 
is like unto it, * A new commandment I give unto you, 
that ye love one another, as I have loved you, that ye 
also love one another.’ Oh ! what a Paradise this earth 
would be if all men kept those laws ! ’ ’ 

“ Ah ! if that could only be ! ” exclaimed a wonder- 
ing and sympathetic voice amid the listening crowd. 

“ It will be ! ” cried Paul. Shall Christ have lived 
in vain ? Shall He have been forsaken by His disciples, 
and given up to His enemies, and judged unrighteously, 
and crucified on the shameful cross, and all for nothing ? 
No ! This kingdom of His shall surely come. The will 
of God shall be done on earth as it is done in heaven. 
Nay, the kingdom of God is come. You may enter into 
it this day, this hour ! Christ is waiting to take away 
your sins, the sins of every one of us. Stretch out your 
hand only, and He will lead you into His kingdom. 
You will know Him in your hearts, and you will love 
Him as He loves you. Heaven will come down into 
your souls, and you will hear the voice of God speak- 


Paul’s defence. 


231 

ing to you there. Even on earth you will taste of heav- 
enly joys.” 

A murmur of gladness ran through the assembly. 
Never had their priests spoken to them as Paul spoke. 
Every one amongst them understood his simple words, 
and their hearts vibrated to their meaning. What a 
Paradise earth would be ! Ah ! how true that was ! The 
women sighed, and tears ran down their cheeks, and the 
men listened with eager attention. 

‘‘Oh! my brothers! Would God I could die for 
you ! ” cried Paul, stretching out his hands to them. 
Then, with a strong shudder, which made him visibly 
tremble before them, and with a solemn but faltering 
voice he exclaimed, “Yes! I could almost wish that 
myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my 
kinsmen according to the flesh ! ” 

A profound silence fell upon the crowd at these words. 
So awful were these words on Paul’s lips, and so deep an 
impression they made on the hearts of those who heard 
him. Yarina was weeping on Halya’s shoulder; but 
Halya shed no tears. She was absorbed, fascinated. 
She felt that she was passing through a great crisis in her 
soul. Her past life was falling from her, and it would be 
impossible for her to take it up again. Paul was reveal- 
ing her to herself, and at the same time was unfolding 
himself to her, and revealing a new world, and a new 
and living God whom she had not known till now. To 
pray again to the saints, and to the official Deity of yes- 
terday would be impossible to her. 

She stood transfixed, and with her the whole congre- 
gation, with eyes fastened upon Paul, as if awaiting 
something more from him. It would hardly have startled 
them if some strange sign had followed his words. A 


232 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

voice from behind the rood-screen broke upon the silence 
harshly — 

‘‘What is this? Is this an orthodox church or a 
Stundist meeting-house? " 

It was Paissy, who had just come out of the sacristy, 
and heard the last sentence of Paul’s speech. 

The sound of the stern, hard voice broke the spell 
which bound them. The starosta Savely made his way 
to the porch and disappeared ; several of the older men 
followed him. Father Vasili began to excuse himself 
awkwardly, explaining that he had expected Paul to in- 
criminate himself, and that all the people had been very 
eager to hear him. Paissy did not even look at him, 
but turned with a frowning and threatening face to the 
congregation. He was so enraged that he did not notice 
the General approaching him, with an evident intention 
of speaking to him. 

He paced down the aisle towards Paul, the crowd 
making way for him as he passed by. The Stundists 
stood in a close cluster, Paul in the front of them. 
Paissy paused within a few feet of him, and for a few 
seconds pierced him through with a stern look of hatred 
and malignancy. In his pale blue eyes there flamed an 
evil light. 

“ Accursed from Christ ! ” he said, in a low, hissing 
voice. “ You never said a truer word! Accursed on 
earth and in heaven ! In the temple of God Himself 
you flaunt your heresies ! Do you know the penalty ? ” 

“ I know it,” answered Paul tranquilly ; “I know it, 
and am ready to pay it. You cannot treat me worse 
than Loukyan, and he prayed for you as he lay dying.” 

Paissy’s rage almost conquered him. He could hardly 
speak, but with a great effort he commanded his voice. 


Paul’s defence. 


233 


‘‘Where is the starosta? ” he inquired. 

Panass pushed himself forward. “ He has left the 
church, your reverence, but I will fetch him back,” he 
said eagerly. 

It was but a minute or two before he returned, and 
with him Savely. The village constables were still in 
the church. 

“ Keep this man under arrest until he is ordered be- 
fore the Consistory,” said Father Paissy. Savely nodded 
to the constables, who approached Paul at once, taking off 
their belts mechanically. Paul held out his hands to them. 

“ Tie them behind his back ! ” cried Father Paissy. 

“ What ! In the church ! ” exclaimed Valerian, com- 
ing forward; “ Father Paissy, this is an outrage — a 
desecration. Even murderers used to find a sanctuary 
in a church.” 

“Take him to the porch, you fools! ” said Father 
Paissy, scowling at the unlooked-for interference. 

But at this moment the congregation suddenly and 
simultaneously rushed to the entrance, carrying with 
them Valerian, Father Paissy, and a number of the Stun- 
dists. Paul, who had no wish to resist, or to appear as if 
he was running away, retreated to the wall, and was pushed 
by the surging crowd into a corner. He saw Halya strug- 
gling to get near him, and her face wore the resolute — 
almost stern — expression he had seen on it in his dream. 

“Paul,” she murmured to him, when they stood to- 
gether, “ let me go with you wherever you may go. I 
will believe in your God and join your people. My 
place is beside you.” 

Paul could not answer. He clasped her hand in his, 
and, lifting up his eyes to heaven, whispered with his 
lips a thanksgiving to God. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


A MIRACLE. 

The sudden stampede which had emptied the church 
was occasioned by the sight of a thin column of smoke 
arising from the thatched roof of old Sheelo’s hut. If 
it had been early in the morning, everyone would have 
known it was only the smoke from the wood fire in his 
oven ; but at this hour, especially during service, no 
smoke would come from the oven chimney. 

The verger at the door had first perceived it, and he 
had been greatly astonished at seeing first the blue soft 
vapour, and then the gradually-increasing volume of 
smoke over Sheelo’s house. He was waiting in the porch 
to show proper respect to the General and Valerian as 
they left the church, and to help them into the carriage, 
standing in readiness for them. He glanced hesitatingly 
into the church, wishing the General would make haste. 
Still the smoke gathered and spread. He ran out a few 
yards. Oh ! there was no mistake. The smoke was not 
coming out of the chimney, but from the roof of the 
sheds behind the house. 

But, as a man used to reverent conduct in the church, 
the verger did not give the alarm, but cautiously sought 
out Sheelo in the closely-packed congregation, and 
whispered to him his house was on fire. The old man 
shrieked and ran out. A few followed him out of 
curiosity. Then alarming shouts and cries were heard 
in the porch. A fire in a village of wooden buildings 

234 


A MIRACLE. 


235 


and thatched roofs is seldom limited to one dwelling. 
The congregation rushed out of the church like a tor- 
rent. 

The village street formed an obtuse angle, at the apex 
of which stood the church. It followed the course of 
the river which flowed near it, but in a rounder curve. 
Some of the straggling cottages were nearer, others a 
little further from the water. They were all detached, 
each one surrounded by its granary, wood-barn, and 
cattle-sheds, larger or smaller, according to the circum- 
stances of the occupier. For the wealth of Knishi con- 
sisted of the primitive wealth of herds and grain. All 
the dwellings were built of wood, with roofs of thatch 
or dried reeds. For the last three or four weeks an arid 
east wind had been blowing off the illimitable steppes, 
drying up the moisture of the wintry rains and snows. 
Everything was almost as parched as in the drought of 
summer. 

The fire started in Sheelo’s cattle-shed, only a few 
yards from the dwelling, which was the ninth house 
from the church. Nearest the church-gate stood the 
little hut of two rooms occupied by the verger and his 
old father, Spiridon. The old man stood at the door 
shaking with palsy, and leaning on a staff. He kept 
muttering in his old husky voice that he had seen the 
imbecile Avdiushka coming out of Sheelo’s cattle-shed, 
and crying ‘‘Burn, burn, burn them!” But no one 
took any notice of him ; he was childish and his memory 
was gone. The indubitable fact was more pressing. 
The place had been set on fire, and no one wondered at 
it, as Sheelo had many enemies. 

As the crowd ran down the street they saw thick puffs 
of smoke rising from the dry thatch in a gigantic 


236 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


column. Then it suddenly cleared away, as if the fire 
was about to burn itself out ; the roof fell in, and a low 
yellow glow brooded for an instant over the shed. A 
cry of terror broke from the throats of the approaching 
throng. For suddenly a huge pillar of flame, which 
seemed to reach the skies, blazed up, tossing hither and 
thither flakes of fire. In the adjacent sheds was heard 
the screams of the horses and the bellowing of the cat- 
tle. 

Old Sheelo rushed to the door, trying to unbolt it, 
but his hands trembled so much he could do nothing, 
and the bolt did not move. Valerian came to his help 
with a strong shaft in his hands, and with one blow 
pushed back the bolt and flung open the door. The 
maddened animals rushed out encircled with smoke, 
knocking down Valerian and their master in their flight. 
A horse was left inside tied up to the manger. Paul, 
who by this time had followed the crowd, covered his 
head with his jacket, and rushed under the already burn- 
ing roof to rescue it. He came back dragging the horse 
by its halter. 

‘‘They want leaders ! " cried Valerian to him. “ You 
take command of one band of men, and I will order the 
others. ’ ’ 

“Yes, yes ! ” said Paul. 

He turned to Panass, who was looking on with a 
stupefied face, and holding with a slack hand a pair of 
horses, which escaped from him and began to gallop 
madly about the yard. 

“Drive them all away into the fields,” he cried; 
“they will trample down the people.” 

Panass obeyed reluctantly and listlessly, and drove 
them away to a place of safety. Valerian and a few 


A MIRACLE. 


237 


peasants meanwhile climbed on to the roof of the dwell- 
ing-house, hoping to save it. They worked away with 
pitchforks and axes to remove the thatch, piling it up in 
a safe direction, behind a wall protected from the fire. 
Sheelo and some other helpers removed the goods from 
his house, and brought out first the icons in their silver 
frames as his most valuable property. 

*‘The icons! the icons!” shouted several voices. 

Let the icons see what is the matter.” 

Two peasants, standing in the middle of the yard, and 
facing the flames, lifted up the largest icon. The yel- 
low light shone upon their swarthy faces, and flashed on 
the silver frames, and on the dark image of the saint. 
It was their patron-saint, whose feast they were celebra- 
ting. Surely he would save his votary. 

But Valerian on the roof found it impossible to save 
the dwelling. The shed had turned into a huge pile of 
burning wood, and flakes of fire were falling in all di- 
rections ; on the heads of the people, on the rafters 
which they were laying bare, on the dry thatch they 
were trying to carry away. Chains of men had been 
formed by Paul, and every pail and bucket in Knishi 
was being passed from hand to hand full of water from 
the river, and sent back again empty by chains of 
women. But Sheelo’s house was already on fire. 

At this instant the old General came up. He had 
sent his coachman post-haste to a village a few miles 
away, which possessed a fire-engine. He came at a 
critical moment. Unseen, the pile of thatch laid be- 
hind the wall had been smouldering, and before Valerian 
and his helpers on the roof perceived it, a black cloud 
of smoke filled the air. 

Come down ! all of you ! ” shouted the General in 


238 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


a loud Strong voice of command, rising above every other 
sound. They obeyed instinctively ; and as the last man, 
Valerian himself, touched the ground, a broad flame 
rushed over the roof, burning away the last remnant of 
thatch. Valerian’s hair was scorched, and his cloth 
coat was singeing. 

Are you hurt? ” asked his father in alarm. 

Not a bit,” he answered. “ But what are we to do 
next ?” 

The wind was blowing in a strong and steady breeze 
from the east, bearing on its wings the blazing tufts of 
straw and thatch, which were detached from the burn- 
ing house. They looked from the unextinguished fire to 
the poor little adjacent cottages with their high-pitched 
roofs and deep eaves, under which were piled up their 
fuel of dried reeds. The next house was already caught. 
It belonged to Koozka. But beyond it lay a small space 
free of buildings, and here the fire might be stayed. 
The chains formed by the men and women moved on 
under Valerian’s direction to stop the progress of the 
conflagration by deluging this house with water. Koozka 
saw his place doomed to destruction, and stood looking 
on, wringing his hands and lamenting in a loud voice. 

Suddenly, from the cattle-shed, which was already in 
flames, came an awful heart-rending scream, whether of 
a human being or an animal none could tell. It was the 
death-cry of a horse which had been forgotten — old 
Koozka’ s favourite horse. 

“Save him! save him!” cried Koozka, rushing to 
the shed. Part of the wooden wall had burnt down, 
and through the opening could be seen the poor animal, 
standing in a paralysis of fear, among burning rafters 
and stalls and beams. No one among the crowd dared 


A MIRACLE. 239 

move. Old Koozka alone rushed forward to save his 
favourite. 

‘‘Come back, old man ! ” shouted the peasants be- 
hind him, “ you will perish without time for repentance ! 
Come back ! ” 

But he did not listen to them. He pressed on as if 
he was beside himself. Paul could not bear to see him 
recklessly throw his life away. He rushed forward and 
pushed him back, flinging himself into the burning shed. 
As he brought the terrified horse through the flames by 
its burning halter, the beam over the door gave way and 
knocked him down. 

Ooliana screamed and ran to her son, who was lying 
almost unconscious on the ground. She dragged him 
out of danger, and Valerian hurried to him and ex- 
amined him with great anxiety. Fortunately, his thick 
sheepskin hat had preserved him ; and when Valerian 
touched the place upon his forehead on which the beam 
had fallen he only winced a little. 

“ Does it hurt ? ” he asked. 

“Not much," answered Paul. He was still too much 
afraid of Valerian to accept his care with pleasure. He 
attempted to get up, but his head felt giddy and he fell 
back again. 

“You must take him home," said Valerian to 
Ooliana; “there maybe more mischief done than we 
can see at once. Here is our carriage. You shall drive 
home in it." 

The fire pursued its relentless course. Though the 
next house was soaked and drenched with water, it re- 
tarded the flames only for a short time. The scorching 
heat dried up the artificial moisture, though hundreds 
of pails of water had been poured upon the roof, trick- 


240 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


ling down the walls and washing off the plaster. When 
the flames caught it, after smouldering sulkily a few 
minutes, it rose in a fiery pillar, at first as straight as an 
arrow into the air, and then wavering a little. The 
people stood, with their hearts throbbing heavily, watch- 
ing the direction it would take. On that depended the 
fate of the village. 

The wind blew a little towards the river. On that 
side was safety. All at once the fiery column fell to 
pieces, as if struck by some powerful blow, and broke 
downwards in a cloud of smoke, and ashes, and sparks. 
But, as if reasserting itself, it rose up straight again, 
wavered, and beat against the air. Then with the 
spring of a wild beast seizing its prey it flung itself on 
the next building. 

There was no escape, no help. The village was given 
up to the mercy of the flames. The house stood like a 
doomed man, lonely, abandoned by all, groaning at its 
fate. Valerian resumed his efforts further on. But 
smoke and cinders from the burning houses assailed him 
and his helpers on the roof, suffocating their breathing 
and blinding their sight. Their clothes began to 
smoulder, and they poured water over themselves to keep 
them from burning. But this only helped for a mo- 
ment. The soaked clothes became hot, and their bodies 
were steamed as in a vapour bath. 

The desperate conflict continued. It was necessary 
to retreat again and again in the direction of the church. 
Fortunately, the wide cemetery was on that side. Still, 
it was surrounded by a wooden fence, rotten with age; 
and at the gate stood old Spiridon’s hut. The church 
was built of timber, though it had a tiled roof ; and its 
three cupolas were of wood painted green. The rotten 


A MIRACLE. 


241 


fence and the thatched hut were dangerous neighbours ; 
if either of them caught fire the church also was 
doomed. 

Valerian, who was the leader in this tenacious strug- 
gle, bade the peasants to destroy the hut and fence ; and 
they, understanding the gravity of the situation, set 
actively to work. It was partially done when the church 
doors were opened, and Father Paissy and Father Vasili 
appeared in their full vestments. The diatchok carried 
after them the silver bason containing holy water and 
the brush for sprinkling it. The choir followed, bear- 
ing crosses, and banners, and icons in a solemn pro- 
cession. 

Coming down the steps leading to the porch. Father 
Paissy took the sprinkler in his hand, dipped it in the 
holy water, and shook off the drops in the direction of 
the fire. He, the diatchok, and the choir started off in 
a solemn chant of one of the metrical prose hymns of 
the Russian Church. 

The people bared their heads, and humbly and piously 
crossed themselves. The conflict was stopped. Now 
that God’s power was invoked, human efforts seemed to 
them preposterous and even irreverent. 

Paissy apparently was of the same mind with the 
peasants. At the head of the procession he paced on 
towards the conflagration, pausing at the broken fence, 
sprinkling it, and singing with redoubled zeal. The 
crowd pressed round the clergy like a frightened flock. 
Some joined in the hymn, lifting their eyes towards 
heaven. Others cried aloud to the icons. They all 
ceased to take measures against the fire except the 
Stundists, who, under the direction of Demyan, went on 
demolishing the little hut at the gate. 


242 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


Father Paissy ! ” cried Valerian, ** that hut and the 
fence must come down. If it sets on fire nothing can 
save the church.” 

Thou art our refuge ! We place our trust in Thee,” 
sang Paissy, not deigning to reply to Valerian. 

Boys ! ” shouted Valerian, come and help to pull 
down the hut.” 

Not one of the orthodox moved. But Demyan and 
the Stundists worked with redoubled ardour, no one in- 
terfering with them. Demyan’s strong muscular force 
was of the greatest service. It seemed almost super- 
natural. He brought down whole beams with a rattle, 
which mingled its noise with the chanting of the clergy. 
The hut disappeared. In its place was nothing but a 
heap of rubbish that would not burn. 

But the fire was not abating. The unbearable heat 
and smoke compelled the priests and the choir to re- 
treat. By degrees they were driven back to the church 
porch, and stood there with their banners and icons like 
a garrison defending its last fortress. 

The voices of the choir grew husky and hoarse. The 
holy water was exhausted in the bason ; but Paissy went 
on waving his dry sprinkler to keep his party in heart. 
The paint on the cupolas began to shrivel, and was 
covered with bubbles like a scalded skin. In several 
places the plaster cracked and fell down. 

^‘Father Vasili,” whispered Valerian, ‘Met us bring 
ladders, and pour water on the cupolas. The wood is 
as dry as a match-box, and may catch fire any moment.” 

The Batushka cast a glance at the cupolas with the ex- 
perienced eye of an old village settler, and shook his 
head in alarm. The church would certainly be soon in 
flames, and his own house stood just behind it. But he 


A MIRACLE. 


243 


dared not do anything on his own authority. He drew 
closer to Paissy, and told him what Valerian had ad- 
vised. 

‘‘And you too are tempted!” exclaimed Paissy. 
“ God is our refuge. In the midst of the flames He will 
preserve His temple.” 

It was a brave answer. His face was begrimed with 
smoke ; his throat was parched ; his vestments were tar- 
nished. The flames were darting a thousand threatening 
tongues towards the already heated walls. Yet Paissy 
stood firm in the fore- front of the terrified band of priests 
and choristers. 

Precisely at this moment the wind veered a point 
northwards. The fiery tongues slanted away from the 
consecrated edifice. The suffocating smoke grew lighter, 
and the heat more bearable. 

“ He has stretched out His arm. The Lord God 
stands up for His temple,” cried the orthodox peasants. 

Paissy was exultant. 

But all at once a sight was seen which filled the pea- 
sants with horror again. The breeze was now blowing 
directly down the other side of the angle formed by the 
straggling street, and the first thatched roof had caught 
fire. The buildings here stood closer together, and under 
the broad eaves of most of them were stores of dried 
reeds. The people hurried down towards their threat- 
ened dwellings, and looked on helplessy, as if benumbed 
by this new catastrophe. A broad stream of smoke and 
fire rolled down the street. The new current of air was 
steady and unrelenting. 

Karpo’s house stood in the midst of the threatening 
stream ; and Marfa, in a paroxysm of terror, rushed in 
and out. Now she appeared bearing some treasure in 


244 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


her hands ; now she stood wringing her hands and tear- 
ing her hair. Karpo and a few neighbours were helping 
listlessly. There was no escape, and everyone had lost 
heart. 

‘‘Halya! Halya ! ” shouted Marfa, why have you 
run away ? where are you, you hussy? ” 

But Halya was nowhere to be seen. She had disap- 
peared immediately after Ooliana had taken Paul home. 

‘^Wait a moment! I know where you are gone, 
shameless wretch 1 " she cried in an ungovernable fury. 

Seizing hold of a wooden rolling-pin she was about to 
rush to Ostron. But as she ran into the street her prog- 
ress was arrested by the sight of the clergy and choris- 
ters standing in the church porch, and chanting a hymn 
of thanksgiving. This gave her distracted mind a fresh 
turn. She stopped, and turned to the people, waving 
her hands passionately. 

“Look there!” she exclaimed; “look what those 
idlers are doing. They have saved their own property^ 
the church, and the Batushka’s house ; and they are 
overjoyed, and sing praises to God. But the village may 
burn to ashes before they stir.” 

A circle of women, joined by a few men, gathered 
round Marfa, amazed at her passion, and the boldness 
with which she attacked the clergy. 

“Ah! go on with your howling!” she resumed; 
“when you want the priest’s due you are always at hand. 
But when the people want help you are no good. Don’t 
you see the village is catching fire everywhere ? And 
you stay there idling, afraid to singe your vestments, 
sluggards and cowards as you are ! ” 

“ Shut up, you fool ! ” growled Karpo. But her shrill 


A MIRACLE. 245 

reproaches had caught the ear of Father Paissy, and he 
gave a sign for the chanting to cease. 

The woman is right,” he said ; “in our joy for the 
church being saved we have forgotten our duty to the 
village. Let us go forth to arrest the progress of the 
flames ! ” 

In a few minutes an imposing procession was formed. 
Father Paissy headed it, and Father Vasili walked close 
behind him. Then came the diatchok and the choir. 
Last of all the icons, crosses, and banners, which were 
thus placed in greater safety. The orthodox peasants 
surrounded them, and joined in vigorously with the 
hoarse chanting of the choristers, whose throats were 
rough with smoke, and exhausted by their prolonged ef- 
forts. Burning fragments fell upon their vestments, and 
one banner was set on fire. But Father Paissy stood his 
ground bravely. He swung his sprinkler dipped in holy 
water like a magician controlling the elements with his 
magic wand. 

The priest had a powerful though invisible ally. The 
sun was going down, and the cooler air blowing from the 
river and the great forest beyond it once more caused the 
wind to change and to veer northwards. This blew the 
flames of the house next to Karpo’s across the open land 
at the back. By the time the procession had gone the 
whole length of the village, and retraced its steps, the 
danger was over. The people, worked up to the highest 
pitch of excitement, watched the tongues of flame slant- 
ing away from the houses harmlessly. Marfa fell on her 
knees before Paissy, and kissed his hands. 

“A miracle! a miracle!” shouted the crowd. All 
crossed themselves ; many wept, and knelt down in the 
dust before the icons. A fourth part of the village had 


246 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


been destroyed, but the rest was out of danger. The 
icons, the procession, and the chanting had saved it. 

At this moment a cloud of dust was seen coming along 
the road, and a small fire-engine, drawn by two ex- 
hausted horses, and driven by a disabled soldier, drove 
up at a jog-trot. 

“ Where shall we play the engine, friends? " he called 
to the crowd. A sudden gust of laughter answered him. 
All around were smouldering heaps of ruins, which must 
be extinguished for fear of any fresh outbreak of the fire. 
There was work enough for half-a-dozen engines such as 
his. But the peril was past, and the people were full of 
the strange hilarity which succeeds the sense of impend- 
ing danger. Valerian and his father, as they walked 
homeward with slow and tired steps, heard behind them 
repeated roars of laughter. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


ANOTHER MARTYR. 

Twenty houses had been burned down, and nearly a 
hundred persons were left roofless. They were mostly 
of the poorest class, and their huts were not of much 
worth. But they were their homes, and the inmates had 
lost all their few possessions. 

But the terrible day was not over. A new and a worse 
calamity was brooding. The bad seed so diligently 
sown by the Batushka and Matoushka was about to bear 
fruit. 

Paissy dismissed the choristers with the banners and 
icons. But he, calling Father Vasili to his side, took up 
a position on the steps of the church porch. A crowd 
gathered round him. Father Paissy could do what he 
pleased with such an audience. He had not forgotten 
the scene in the church only a few hours before, when 
the leader of the Stundists had boldly preached a ser- 
mon in defence of their heresy. A man like that was 
too dangerous to be left in peace, to work his wicked 
will unopposed. 

Orthodox people ! ” he cried, lifting up his voice 
to be heard to the confines of the crowd, “ you have 
seen the hand of God to-day. He has given you a 
miracle as a sign to confirm your faith. You have 
sinned against Him in suffering heretics to dwell in 
peace among you, teaching their damnable doctrines, 
and leading their immoral lives. God has punished 
you for this sin. Who set the village on fire ? ” 

247 


248 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


^‘The Stundists ! the Stundists ! ” shouted the peo- 
ple. 

*‘No, neighbours, no!" exclaimed the starosta 
Savely, who had been chosen for his office because of 
his integrity and justice. “ Old Spiridon saw the idiot 
Avdiushka come out of Sheelo’s cattle-shed Just before 
it set on fire." 

■*‘But no doubt God permitted it on account of the 
Stundists," continued Paissy, ‘Of they did not do it 
themselves. The people of Knishi have allowed God’s 
holy name to be blasphemed, and the saints to be dis- 
honoured, and the icons to be destroyed. Is there any 
wonder that this judgment has befallen them? Think 
to yourself — if any man reviled your father and spoke 
evil and untrue things of him, would you stand quietly 
by and listen to him. And if through fear and coward- 
ice you held your tongue, how do you suppose your 
father would judge you, when he came to hear of it ? 
Would he praise you, and thank you for your love to 
him ? God has seen, He has heard. He has known all 
that these reprobates have done ; how they denounce His 
temples, and the icons, and even the cross, the holy 
cross on which His Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, was cru- 
cified. And you, in whose presence these things have 
been done, you not only did not stop these miscreants, 
but you bore with them and even encouraged them." 

“ We will bear with them no longer I We will de- 
fend our God and the orthodox faith ! " cried many 
voices. 

“ That is right ! " Paissy went on. Bethink your- 
selves before it is too late. The Divine will has been 
revealed to you this day. You are ignorant people ; so 
God would not annihilate you as He did in old times, 


ANOTHER MARTYR. 


249 


when the earth opened and swallowed up those who re- 
belled against Him. You have been punished slightly. 
Shall I tell you why ? Because this morning you suf- 
fered that heretic to. utter his blasphemies here, in 
this temple of God. And no man stopped him. If it 
had not been so, if as soon as he opened his mouth you 
had dragged him out, there would have been no fire. 
You would have left the church in time to see the idiot 
— if it was the idiot — and the fire would have been at 
once extinguished.” 

This was a conclusive argument. Everybody saw 
and felt its force. 

“ Ah, my Lord, that is really true ! ” exclaimed old 
Sheelo. 

Oh, the accursed ! ” joined in the crowd. 

There were no more doubts, no hesitation. The 
Stundists were the authors of all their calamities. 

“Who says it was the idiot?” asked Panass. “As 
likely as not it was one of the heretics themselves. The 
idiot never set the village on fire before.” 

The accusation, false as it was, and in direct contra- 
diction to the fact — for every Stundist had been in the 
church — was received with acclamation by the crowd. 

“ Of course they did it,” said the philosopher Koozka. 
“They are always glad to do mischief to the orthodox. 
They have been at it all the winter.” 

“Who was in the village at the time? Who saw 
anyone?” shouted Sheelo. 

Old Spiridon was pushed to the front, and mumbled 
out his story ; how he had seen somebody slip out of 
Sheelo’s shed and run off towards the river. 

“ Who was it ? ” asked Paissy. 


250 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


‘‘ He was running and howling. I thought it was 
Avdiushka,” muttered the old man. 

** Oh, nonsense ! you are blind ! You mistook some- 
body else for him,” said Panass. 

“How is it only the houses of the orthodox are 
burned, and none of theirs?” asked Okhrim, who 
stood beside his son. 

It was true. It happened that the Stundists’ houses 
were scattered at the two ends of the village street far- 
thest from the fire. The crowd suddenly grew exas- 
perated. 

Some voices shouted : — “ Neighbours ! let us give the 
heretics a lesson.” 

The nearest house belonged to Kondraty. They 
rushed in, bursting open the door ; but it was empty. 
In a few minutes everything was broken to pieces, the 
windows smashed, the boxes ransacked, and all their 
contents — clothes, books, utensils — torn into shreds, 
and scattered within and without the dwelling. 

They went to the next house. There, too, was no- 
body, except two or three little children trying to hide 
under the benches. The people left that also in ruins. 

Meanwhile, the Stundists were gone to their usual 
evening prayer-meeting at Loukyan's bee-farm, where 
they had often assembled since his death. But no one 
remembered that. 

“Ah! they have hidden themselves. They know 
they are guilty, the miscreants 1 ” cried the peasants, 
growing more and more excited. 

There were six houses in Knishi belonging to the 
Stundists, which all shared the same fate as Kondraty’s. 
The maddened mob thirsted for more vengeance. 

“Let us go to Paul Rudenko’s I ” cried Panass ; “ he 


ANOTHER MARTYR. 25 I 

is the cause of all. He’s sure to be at home with his 
broken head.” 

“ Come ! come ! ” roared the mob. “ We ought to 
have begun with him. He is the cause of all.” 

With clubs and pitchforks in their hands, the infuri- 
ated crowd hurried through the fields to Ostron. 

Father Paissy grew somewhat alarmed. He wished 
to teach the heretics a lesson, but he did not want the 
thing to run to any great excess of unlawful outbreak. 
Bidding Father Vasili to restrain the people in the vil- 
lage, he hastened after the throng that was crushing 
down the spring wheat in their furious progress. 

Shortly after Ooliana and Paul had reached home, 
Halya had crept in timidly, hardly knowing how they 
would receive her. Paul was lying down on his bed, 
and Ooliana had already bandaged his grievous bruise. 
He was deadly pale, and his eyes looked sunken and 
dim ; but they brightened as he caught sight of her, 
and he tried to stretch out his arms to her. Ooliana 
caressed her, and bade her sit down and watch Paul 
whilst she went to prepare him some food, of which he 
was sorely in need. 

Halya sat beside him, holding her hand in his, and 
telling him again and again that she loved him, and 
only him. She wished for nothing but to share his life, 
whatever its sorrows and sufferings might be. To be 
with him even unto death, never again to be parted 
from him — that was all she asked of God. She had 
read his Testament daily, and she believed all he said 
out of it was true. If it was true for him, it was true 
for her. 

Paul listened as if he was in a dream — a dream of 
rapture. His head was giddy and his thoughts bewil- 


252 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

dered, and he could not say many words ; but he was 
profoundly happy. The promise given to him months 
ago was at last fulfilled. His people would be Halya’s 
people, his God her God. 

Ooliana left them very much alone, only looking in 
now and then with a smile like a benediction on her 
face. She, too, was deeply agitated. The imperative 
summons to church — the church dear to her from a 
thousand associations, yet a profaned temple where she 
could no longer worship ; Paul’s noble and brave con- 
fession of faith in it ; the strong impression made by it 
on his listeners ; the fire ; and now Halya’s presence — 
all stirred her tranquil soul into unwonted tumult. She 
passed in and out of her cattle-sheds, feeding the pa- 
tient creatures dependent on her care; flung handfuls 
of corn to her fowls, busied herself a little while in the 
fold-yard ; and then, wearied out, sat down to rest on 
the bank of earth under her kitchen window. 

She could see the clouds of smoke rolling over Knishi 
— now almost black, now with red reflections on them. 
By-and-bye, when Halya was ready to go, she would 
accompany her, if Paul was well enough to be left, and 
see what help she could give. At any rate, she could 
shelter a family or two under her roof. Presently she 
would put on a large cauldron for soup, that there 
might be supper for her guests. Perhaps this crisis 
would reconcile her to her neighbours again, the be- 
loved playfellows of her childhood, who had stood 
aloof from her all the winter. What else could it do ? 

When the sun was setting Ooliana prepared supper, 
and called Paul and Halya to it. He had recovered a 
little, and sat down at the table, but he could tiot eat. 
This evening was the happiest evening of his life 


ANOTHER MARTYR. 253 

unique, unparalleled. He wanted to celebrate it in a 
peculiar way. 

‘‘Mother, will you get us some wine?" he said. 
“ We three will take the Lord’s Supper together." 

Ooliana rose silently, with a joy inexpressible, and 
took from the cupboard an earthenware Jug into which 
she poured some wine, and brought it and a plateful of 
black bread, which she placed before Paul. 

“ Give me my Testament, Halya," he said. 

Opening it, he read these words — 

“ For 1 have received of the Lord that which I also 
delivered unto you. That the Lord Jesus the same 
night in which He was betrayed took bread : and when 
He had given thanks, He broke it, and said, Take, eat : 
this is my body, which is broken for you : this do in re- 
membrance of me. After the same manner also He 
took the cup, when He had supped, saying. This cup is 
the new testament in my blood : this do ye as oft as ye 
drink it, in remembrance of me. For as often as ye eat 
this bread, and drink this cup, ye do show forth the 
Lord’s death till He come." 

“In remembrance of Christ ! " said Paul, breaking 
off a morsel of bread and passing it to his mother. 
Then with radiant joy upon his face he gave Halya an- 
other morsel and ate one himself. It was a sign to 
them all that Halya had definitely thrown in her lot 
with theirs. 

But what was this sound breaking in upon the stillness 
of the evening ? Ooliana heard the murmur of many 
voices in the distance. Could her old friends be com- 
ing to seek her ready help? She hastened to the door 
to meet them. The tread of many feet came nearer. 
But those angry shouts, those furious cries ? It was a 


254 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


maddened mob rushing across the corn-fields lying be- 
tween Knishi and Ostron. 

Paul and Halya listened within doors ; but the sound 
to them was more like the hum of insects. They smiled 
at one another, partly amused and partly wondering at 
Ooliana’s impetuous movements. She came quickly 
back to them. 

** Halya ! Go away ! Fly ! ” she exclaimed. “ Let 
nobody find you here ! Some great calamity is in store 
for us.” 

Paul threw open the window and looked out. The 
forerunners of the mob were already in sight. 

“ Halya ! For God’s sake go away ! ” he implored. 

She shook her head. 

Do not I belong to you now?” she whispered. 

My place is where you are. I will not be parted from 
you.” 

<^Then God help us ! ” he said solemnly. 

All three sat down to the table again, and Paul 
poured some wine into a wooden cup and passed it to 
his mother. 

<‘We show forth the Lord’s death till He come,” he 
repeated. 

Already the shouts and threats of the crowd about to 
make a cowardly attack upon them rang noisily in the 
evening air. The road was packed with the people. 
Ferocious faces caught the last gleam of the sun. Fists 
were shaken at the house. Stones were flung against 
the windows. 

The yard-gate was unlocked as usual, and the crowd 
rushed furiously towards the open door. Marfa was the 
first to enter. She knew Halya was there, and the only 


ANOTHER MARTYR. 255 

way to save her from the fury of her father and Panass 
was to be the first to attack her herself. 

“ Ah ! You wretch ! Here you are ! ” she cried sav- 
agely. Leave her to me, you men ! ” and getting hold 
of her by her hair she dragged her violently out of the 
onslaught of the mob. This motherly violence saved the 
girl. 

Ooliana stood on the nearer side of the table, Paul be- 
hind it. The open Book, the plate of bread, and the 
wooden cup containing wine irritated the ignorant peas- 
antry most of all. 

** It is witchcraft ! They are weaving a spell to do us 
mischief!” shouted Koozka. ‘‘We’ve caught them at 
it ! They’ve bewitched Halya, too, and she going to be 
married to Panass ! ” 

“ Kill them ! the heretics ! ” cried Karpo, “ they are 
the cause of all our trouble. Whoso kills a heretic, sev- 
enty sins will be forgiven him in the Day of Judgment.” 

Paul stepped forward from behind the table, with a 
pale but resolute face. He was ready to meet his fate. 

But Ooliana threw herself before him. The mother 
stood between the murderous crew and her son. With 
outstretched arms she sought to protect him. 

“ Go back ! ” she cried. “ I call God to witness this 
day we have done harm to no one ! Let the starosta 
take us if we are to be taken ! ” 

For a few seconds there was a pause. 

“ Savely would favour the witch ! ” shouted Okhrim 
angrily, “ strike her down now while her evil eye is off 
you ! ” 

Ooliana had turned, and was gazing with deep agita- 
tion on Paul’s pallid face. 


256 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


If we suffer with Christ we shall also reign with 
Him,” she said. 

The next moment she was felled to the ground by 
Koozka’s club, and violently thrown aside into the corner 
beneath the empty icon shrine. Just then Paissy ap- 
peared in the crowd, pushing his way among them. 

“ Stop ! stop ! ” he exclaimed, “ you are not far from 
killing her. You might give her some blows to teach 
her a lesson, but you must stop short of murder. That 
is forbidden by God’s Commandments.” 

He ordered them to lay Ooliana on the bench. She 
breathed heavily, but did not open her eyes. Paul 
thrust aside his persecutors and flung himself on his 
knees beside her. 

Speak to me, mother!” he cried, <Met me hear 
your voice again.” 

He fancied a smile flickered about her mouth ; but 
half a dozen violent hands seized him and dragged him 
away into the fold-yard. 

Knock him down! Beat him! Kick him!” 
shouted a multitude of voices. 

‘‘No!” shouted Panass, louder than anyone else, 
“ let us bind him and throw him into the river. If he 
floats that shows he is a sorcerer ; if he sinks he is only 
a heretic.” 

Paissy attempted to interfere. 

“Orthodox Christians!” he said, “you must let 
him confess if he will. You must not hurry a human 
soul to endless perdition.” 

It was too late. No one listened to him. 

The mob was hurrying Paul down to the river, bind- 
ing his arms as they went. When Paissy overtook them 
they had dragged him to the little wooden pier on which 


ANOTHER MARTYR. 


-^57 


the women did their washing, and were about to push 
him from the end of it into the river, flushed with the 
spring floods. Paissy called out peremptorily — 

“ Stop ! Fasten a rope under his arms ! ” he shouted. 

As soon as this was done Panass and Karpo flung him 
into the stream. 

Paul sank. 

“He is drowning!” cried the peasants, “ it’s clear 
he did not know how to save himself this time by his 
witchcraft.” 

“ Drag him out 1 ” ordered Paissy. 

Several men pulled at the rope, and Paul was brought 
to the surface of the water and dragged on to the end of 
the pier. 

“ The Stundist is baptised now ! ” laughed Panass ; 
and all who heard him echoed his words and his 
laughter. 

“Do you renounce the Devil and all his works?” 
asked Paissy : the question that is put in actual baptism. 

Paul was half unconscious. His brain was bewildered ; 
but the words which were most clearly in his mind rose 
to his lips. 

“Lord! lay not this sin to their charge!” he 
prayed. 

The exasperated rabble yelled with rage. 

“Throw him in again ! Keep him in longer! He 
does not feel it yet ! ” screamed several voices. 

Paul was flung into the river again. When he was 
dragged out, Paissy again asked him — 

“ Do you renounce the Devil, and all his angels ? ” 

Paul again murmured with a sobbing breath — 

“ Lord, lay not this sin to their charge 1 ” 


?58 THE HIGHWA,Y OF SORROW. 

'^Down into the water again ! ” shouted Paissy him- 
self this time. 

At this moment Valerian came running with full 
speed down the slope towards the river. He saw Paul’s 
white face sink beneath the surface of the troubled 
waters. 

^^Drag him out again instantly!” he exclaimed; 
'‘what are you doing? Do you indeed believe in a 
God ? And you, Father Paissy ! ” 

Paul lay before them unconscious, if not dead. Va- 
lerian gazed down at him with inexpressible pity in his 
face. 

“ We were seeking to wash the heretic from his sins, 
by submerging him thrice in the water. There is noth- 
ing wrong in it,” said Paissy, measuring Valerian from 
head to foot, with a sinister and scrutinizing look. 

“Perhaps not according to clerical notions,” an- 
swered Valerian, beside himself with indignation and 
pity; “but according to the civil law such torture may 
send you to Siberia.” 

He looked round at the peasants, whose faces were 
suddenly clouded with dread. 

“ To Siberia 1 ” sneered Paissy ; “ this miscreant, who 
profaned the church, is likely to go to Siberia ; but none 
of those who wanted to save his soul, and bring him 
back to the orthodox faith.” 

He wrapped himself in his cassock, and with a digni- 
fied step marched slowly and solemnly away. Valerian 
turned to the peasants. 

“How could you do this thing?” he said; “don’t 
you see the man is quite ill ? He was almost killed in 
protecting your property, Sheelo. How could you repay 
him in this manner?” 


ANOTHER MARTYR. 259 

*‘But the fire was caused by his enchantments,” an- 
swered Sheelo. 

How can you talk such nonsense? ” asked Valerian ; 

there is no enchantment such as you think of. Here 
Demyan and Kondraty, help me to carry Paul Rudenko 
home.” 

A small group of Stundists had approached, strolling 
homewards by the river from their evening meeting at 
Loukyan’s old home. They helped to carry the be- 
numbed and drenched body of Paul to his own house. 

Reaching it they found Ooliana still lying on the 
bench, and Marfa trying to bring back Halya from a 
faint. The girl was lying on the floor at Ooliana’s feet. 
Valerian went to them, and laid his hand on the ice- 
cold wrist of Ooliana. 

** She is dead ! ” he cried, in a voice of the deepest 
commiseration; ‘‘good God! what crimes are com- 
mitted in Thy name 1 ” 

He could do nothing for her ; but for Paul and Halya 
there was much U be done. He left Paul at last under 
the care of Demyan. Marfa met him as he came out of 
Paul’s room. 

“Oh 1 Valerian Petrovitch ! ” she cried, “ save my 
child ! Karpo will kill her if he catches hold of her. 
Take her away ! Hide her ! Keep her till Paul re- 
covers, and marries her. I have nobody to help me but 
you. I shall lose her. But oh ! if Karpo should kill 
her I ” 

Halya crept to his side, and, kneeling down, kissed 
his hand. 

“Take care of me for Paul,” she said ; “my father 
will certainly kill me. And oh ! I am afraid of Okhrim 
and Panass. Hide me somewhere, for Paul’s sake.” 


26 o 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


Valerian promised to come back for her during the 
night, and drive her to Kovylsk, where she could be 
concealed by the Stundists until Paul recovered. 

Through the village the rumour had already flown 
that Ooliana was dead. There was shame and sorrow 
in many a heart in Knishi that night. There was no 
one who had not received some kindness from her. The 
homeless families knew she would have been their best 
benefactress ; and they bewailed her loss greatly. Even 
the Batushka and Matoushka were mournful. 

Until she became a heretic,” said Father Vasili, 
*‘she was the best Christian in my parish.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 


1892 O. S. 1893 N. S. 

Nearly three years have passed. In other countries 
New Year's Day has been welcomed in with merry 
greetings and cheerful peals of bells. But here the sad 
old year still lingers on its death-bed. It is December 
20th. The Autocrat of All the Russias could bring his 
people on this point, as well as other more important 
ones, abreast with other civilised nations with a stroke 
of his pen. 

A severe Siberian December is regnant. A gale is 
blowing from the north-east over the boundless Siberian 
plains, bearing on its measureless current a fine snow- 
dust, which is hurled in clouds and columns on the 
wind, burying the low forests under its drifts, filling up 
ravines, and blinding the eyes of men and animals. 
There are no obstacles to the free elements of Nature. 
Finding nothing in its way, the irresistible gale flies on- 
ward like a bird for days without reaching a town, or 
any human habitation, except the hut of some savage. 
We are very far away from Oukrania here. The skies 
are austere; Nature poor; and helpless and pitiful is 
man. 

The cold sun is past mid-day, but it can not be seen 
in the grey sky, thinly veiled by a shroud of clouds. 
Still duller and sadder the monotonous plain appears in 
this gloomy, depressing light. Here and there the tops 
of the stunted pine-trees stand up amid a snow-drift. 

261 


262 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


But this is the only feature in the wide expanse of bil- 
lowy snow. 

Tramping heavily through the snow in their wide, flat 
boots moved a long line of prisoners. They were weary 
and frozen. The coarse prison dress and the short, 
worn-out fur coats protected them very badly from the 
biting wind. Their chains, though skilfully fastened 
up, caught the snow at every step, impeding the march 
and burning the skin with frost. 

At the end of this slowly-moving column came a few 
prisoners without chains, though they were evidently 
considered of the most importance, as their escort of 
soldiers was more numerous than that of the rest of the 
file. 

They were political prisoners, exiled without trial by 
administrative order, and in consequence they had not 
lost all their privileges. 

There were only five — a young girl, exiled for dis- 
tributing some pamphlets, and four men, one of whom 
was a boy of fifteen with blue eyes and round, child- 
like face, not quite of a Russian type. His name was 
Vania, and, as a Jew by birth, he was banished to the 
farthest Yakoutsk settlements, beyond the Arctic Circle, 
for some revolutionary papers found in his possession. 
Two others were middle-aged men, one of whom had 
been guilty of giving shelter to his own children, whose 
fate was much more severe than his own, having been 
sentenced to penal servitude for life. 

The fourth man of the little band, who had been elected 
their starosta or head man, walked on dreamily a little 
in advance of his comrades, and presently reached the 
file of common criminals tramping, with the ceaseless 
clangour of chains, across the plain of snow. 


1892 O. S. 1893 N. S. 


263 


This was Valerian. He was haggard and emaciated ; 
but every man and woman in the long procession was 
haggard and emaciated too. But for the human misery 
of their faces, they might have been a chain of ghosts, 
marching hollow-eyed and with sunken faces in the dim 
wintery light. His banishment followed quite naturally 
the events described in the last chapter. He could not 
disobey his conscience, and had begun a lawsuit to in- 
quire into Ooliana’s murder and the ill-usage of Paul. 

Paissy had proved a subtle and dangerous opponent. 
Seeing that Valerian meant to push the inquiry to the 
utmost, he resolved to have recourse to an easy and well- 
tried means of getting rid of him. He denounced him 
secretly to the authorities in St. Petersburg as a revolu- 
tionary propagandist. He had no proofs to bring for- 
ward in support of his accusation ; but the suspicion 
alone was sufficient for the authorities. An unexpected 
domiciliary visit was made to the old General’s house, 
and in Valerian’s rooms was found a parcel of prohib- 
ited books, many of them translations of English politi- 
cal writers, which he had just received from St. Peters- 
burg. 

His fate was sealed. Valerian was carried off to St. 
Petersburg and thrown into the fortress-prison there, 
where he was kept in solitary confinement for two years. 
At last his lot was changed, thanks to his father’s con- 
nections, into exile to Siberia. 

The greater part of the long journey had been made. 
They were reaching Irkoutsk, where most of the pris- 
oners would remain — some in prison, others free to get 
their own living as they could. 

Valerian had endured the journey fairly well, but 
traces of extreme exhaustion were evident on his com- 


264 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


rades and most of the exiles, who formed altogether a 
very large party. Shivering in their worn-out furs, they 
crawled despondently along, furrowing the deep snow 
with their numerous feet. The column lengthened out 
more and more. Lieutenant Mironov, the captain of 
the escort, lost patience. 

Get along ! Look alive ! ” he shouted, standing on 
one side of the procession so that all might see him. 

He was a man about fifty, with grey hair and a red 
face, from which the skin was peeling off from the frost. 
He had advanced in the service. During the Bulgarian 
war he had been under General Nesteroff, Valerian’s 
father, who had helped him to get promotion. 

Close up the ranks, you beasts ! ” he stormed. 

Swearing was a great art with him, and he enjoyed 
showing it off on occasions; but the presence of the 
political prisoners checked him to-day. They were edu- 
cated men, and he restrained himself lest they should 
detect in him the coarseness of a peasant. Valerian, he 
knew, was a noble, the son of his old General. 

Roused by the shouts of their stern captain, the pris- 
oners quickened their pace, if only to prove their zeal in 
obeying him. They almost ran as they passed Mironov, 
but again they fell back into crawling more slowly than^ 
before. 

Before Mironov’s keen eyes passed a long line of grey- 
coated figures covered with white frost — young and old, 
men, women, and children. They had ceased talking. 
No hum of voices accompanied the clanking of the 
chains. A waggon with baggage rolled by, and a few 
rude carts, without springs, in which lay those too ill to 
walk. 

A small group of exiles, somewhat detached from the 


1892 O. S. 1893 N. S. 


265 


rest, quickened their pace when ordered, but did not 
make a show of running as the others had done. This 
roused Mironov’s anger. 

I’ll teach you how to dawdle ! ” he shouted, raising 
his hand to strike a fair-haired young man of about 
thirty, with a handsome, thoughtful face. But at that 
moment he caught Valerian’s eye, and his hand fell 
down. He gave the man nearest to him a push, and 
showered upon them a torrent of swearing. But oaths 
break no bones. 

Neither the fair-haired man nor his comrade — who by 
the colour of his hair and the type of his face was 
plainly from the South — made any reply to the captain’s 
insults. 

The young man carried in his arms a bundle of clothes, 
within which moved a living little creature. Behind 
him crawled a young woman, evidently his wife. 

*‘What a fine lady! cannot carry her own baby!” 
exclaimed Mironov with a sneer. 

The woman shivered and pressed closer to her hus- 
band, as if trying to hide herself from him. She was a 
pretty young creature, though her dress was in rags, and 
her face thin and sorrowful. 

But Mironov left her alone. He strode along with the 
column, gradually slackening his pace until Valerian 
overtook him. Valerian marched on, paying no atten- 
tion to his chief, who walked beside him. Mironov 
coughed ; Valerian took no notice. 

‘‘These common people,” said Mironov in an apolo- 
getic tone, “ you can do nothing with them without 
oaths and kicks.” 

Valerian smiled, and turned to him his handsome pale 
face. 


266 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


But do you try ? ” he asked. 

‘*It is no use trying,” was the answer. They are 
brutes, not human beings. About you others, I say 
nothing,” he added quickly, “ you are educated men.” 

“ And those whom you were about to strike just now, 
are they brutes too in your opinion ? ” said Valerian, in- 
dicating the little group of prisoners marching behind 
the baggage-waggon. 

*‘The Stundists? Oh, no ! Why they are exiled, I 
cannot understand. They are peaceable folk. But they 
were loitering, nearly a hundred yards behind the others.” 

It was not on purpose,” said Valerian. “ See ! the 
woman is so tired she may drop any moment. Instead 
of insulting her, you should give her a lift in the waggon.” 

** What ! Ought I to order conveyances for them all? ” 
exclaimed the lieutenant. “ Waggons for four hundred 
prisoners ! You want too much. Valerian Petrovitch.” 

The three prisoners who were following the waggon 
were Paul, Demyan, and Stepan. Stepan was sentenced 
to hard labour, Paul and Demyan to exile. After his 
mother's death Paul had found it impossible to live any 
longer in the house polluted by her murder. He had 
sold all his possessions, and gone to live in Kovylsk, 
where he married Halya. For nearly two years he had 
gone about visiting the scattered churches of the Stun- 
dists, and encouraging them amid the fury of the perse- 
cution raging against them. But his career was quickly 
cut short, and a sentence of banishment passed upon 
him. Halya chose to accompany him, and she had been 
allowed to take her baby, then three months old. 

Demyan's wife had decided to remain with her chil- 
dren, of whom there were now three, and Demyan had 
gone to exile alone. But the little ones were soon taken 


1892 O. S. 1893 N. s. 


267 


away from the broken-hearted mother, to be brought up 
in the orthodox religion. Demyan rarely spoke or looked 
up. He had made his long march with bowed down 
head, and eyes fixed on the ground. His mind seemed 
bewildered. But one thought was clear to him, the 
thought of God. Now and then he murmured His name 
in a pathetic voice, which brought the tears to Paul’s 
eyes. If they asked him what he was thinking of, he 
always answered God. 

For some time Valerian and Mironov walked on in 
silence. 

** When shall we reach an etape ? ” inquired Valerian. 
“ Even I am nearly tired to death.” 

** Very soon,” said Mironov, hurrying on to reach the 
head of the column. 

Halya heard his shouts and curses drawing nearer, and 
getting frightened started to run on, stumbling in the 
heavy snow. Paul tried to hold her back and soothe 
her. 

**Look here, young woman ! ” cried Mironov, ^ you 
are tired. Would you like to get up into the waggon ? ” 

Paul and Halya looked at him in astonishment, won- 
dering if he was jeering at them, or was in earnest. The 
irritable lieutenant flew into a passion. 

*^Ah, you hussy! ” he thundered. You want to 
die on the road, and get me into trouble. Get up into 
the waggon this instant ! Look here, you fool ! Stop 1 ’ ’ 
he shouted to the driver. Can’t you hear when you 
are called ! ” 

Seated comfortably on the baggage with which the 
waggon was loaded, and lulled slightly by the slow move- 
ment it made, Halya felt herself in Paradise. Paul had 
given her the baby, and it too was evidently happy. It 


268 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


lay peacefully in her lap, and stretching its cramped 
limbs was ready to fall asleep. Halya peeped under the 
shawl that covered his face. The baby-face frowned a 
little as if he had not made up his mind whether to cry 
or no ; but the motion of the waggon was so pleasant to 
him it did not seem worth while to cry. A smile came 
to his soft lips, and he tossed his little hands about 
cheerily. 

Halya’s face was all sunshine. Bending over her child 
she kissed the tiny face and small red hands, and pressed 
this little helpless being to her heart; the source of so 
much happiness, and alas ! of so much suffering. Oh 
if God would only keep the child safe to the journey’s 
end ! It was so near now. To-morrow they would be 
in Irkoutsk. 

Meanwhile the column straggled and grew longer and 
longer. Mironov’s patience was quite exhausted. He 
drove the prisoners on with blows as well as curses. At 
last they saw before them on the ridge of a low hill a 
small wooden building, showing black against the grey 
horizon. It seemed impossible that it could shelter all 
this crowd of people. 

The prisoners almost forgot their fatigue, and quick- 
ened their pace. There was only twenty minutes further 
to walk, and then there would be rest, warmth, and 
food. 

The wind had fallen, and the sky was dark. The 
horses snorted and pranced as if terrified. A white 
cloud appeared on the horizon, a little to the north of 
the etape. The lieutenant and the old experienced pris- 
oners, who were not a few, glanced at it, and at every 
glance hurried their pace. The cloud grew and moved, 
but almost imperceptibly. The air became heavy. In 


1892 O. S. 1893 N. s. 


269 


several places over the plains gigantic forms were seen 
appearing and disappearing. Sudden gusts of wind 
flew across the misty expanse. 

“A snowstorm! a snowstorm!” was shrieked by 
several voices, and the whole mass of people pressed on- 
wards in the direction where a few minutes before they 
had seen the dark building. Instantly there was wild 
confusion. An impenetrable mist surrounded them. 
The snow fell in flakes, which a whirlwind hurled hither 
and thither, bewildering and blinding the sight. Paul 
hurried to the waggon to be near his wife and child ; 
but he was knocked down by some of the running pris- 
oners, and when he struggled to his feet he could see 
nothing but a few human forms scudding away in the 
darkness. 

Halya ! Halya ! ” he cried. The roar of the wind 
was his only answer. Halya could not hear him. She 
was lying at the bottom of the waggon, protecting 
with her own body their child from the penetrating 
cold. 

Halya! Halya! ” shouted Paul. 

All at once, as if rising from underground, there ap- 
peared a file of men holding one another by the hand. 
They were the political prisoners, led by Valerian. He 
heard the cry Halya ! ” 

Where are you going ? Comeback ! You will lose 
yourself in a moment,” he cried ; come on with us. 
In a file one does not lose the way so easily. Quicker, 
boys ! Vania, show yourself a man ! And, Vera, you 
must be a man on this occasion. Courage ! we are nearly 
there.” 

Valerian’s hand caught Paul’s, and held it firmly. In 
a few minutes their heads, bowed down against the 


2 70 THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 

Storm, struck against the palisading which surrounded 
the etape. 

The gate is to the left,” cried Valerian, whose keen 
sight pierced through the bewildering snowflakes ; “ keep 
close to the palisade.” 

He could hardly be heard for the roaring of the wind, 
and the confused noises inside the prison-yard. When 
they entered it there was already a throng of people, 
and every moment others rushed in, overjoyed to reach 
the shelter. Soldiers, drivers, and prisoners, mixed to- 
gether in a cheerful crowd, happy in their deliverance 
from a deadly danger. It was impossible to make out 
the roll-call amidst such confusion and the hurricane fury 
of the storm. Mironov ordered the prison doors to be 
thrown open. He only called out the names of the po- 
litical prisoners, who stood apart and together. 

“This is the second time you have saved my life,” 
said Paul with deep emotion to Valerian as they sepa- 
rated. 

“ It is a life worth saving,” answered Valerian simply. 

Mironov ordered lights to be kept burning over the 
prison door, and the sentinels were bidden to call out as 
loudly as they could from time to time in case any of the 
prisoners were lost in the tempest, and might wander 
that way. 

“To bed ! ” he shouted. 

Then followed a scene of the utmost confusion. The 
prisoners struggled, and pushed, and fought with one 
another to get first into the kamera in which there were 
fifty places only for the accommodation of three times 
that number. The family kamera, into which the women 
and children and the married men were scrambling, was 
a long, narrow room, with a nari or sleeping platform 


1892 O. S. 1893 N. S. 


271 


down each side, and a gangway in the middle. The 
sleeping platform was about four feet from the floor, and 
six feet wide, of bare boards, without pillow or rug for 
the rest of the weary frames stretched upon it after the 
toilsome march of the day. But hard and comfortless 
as it -was, a place on it was ardently coveted, as other- 
wise there was no resting-place except on the floor cov- 
ered with filth. Paul and Halya, happy in finding one 
another and their child safe, made their way into the 
kamera; but it was already crowded. 

During their long march of several months the Stun- 
dists had made a favourable impression on many of their 
fellow-prisoners. They had made themselves useful in 
various ways on those rest days, when the whole band 
stayed for thirty-six hours at the same etape. The crim- 
inal prisoners, like the political, had elected a starosta, 
whom all were bound to obey, and Stepan had been of 
great service to him. It was this starosta who received 
the alms collected as they passed through the scattered 
villages, and who appointed the beggars to implore the 
charity of sympathising spectators. Paul and Halya, 
with their baby, were the most successful in collecting 
alms, and the starosta held them in high favour. 

“ Halya ! Halya ! ” cried a shrill voice, as they stood 
at the door of the crowded kamera. It was Kilina who 
called, a big-boned, masculine woman, sentenced to 
fifteen years of hard labour, for a double murder. She 
was standing up in a corner of the platform, waving her 
hands, and shrieking at the top of her voice. 

^'Pve kept a place for you and your brat!” she 
shouted. Paul pushed their way towards her, and 
helped Halya to mount the platform, pressing a kiss on 
his baby’s forehead as he held him in his arms. Then 


272 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


he looked round for a place to rest his weary limbs in. 
The floor was already covered with people lying in their 
drenched clothing, which had begun to thaw as soon as 
they entered the warm kamera. There were few who 
were eating, hungry though they were, for at the mid- 
day halt the weather had been so bad that scarcely any 
peasant women had come to sell provisions, and the 
prisoners were dependent upon these uncertain and casual 
supplies for their subsistence. But a good deal of vodka 
was being drunk. This was bought from the canteen 
keeper, who contrived, by bribing the guards, to smug- 
gle in a few forbidden luxuries. 

They had been locked in for the night. There was 
no ventilation, no sanitation, no lavatory or closet. 
There were the open, unavoidable indecencies of a 
savage’s hut. Immediately under the oil lamp, which 
fortunately shed only a dim light on the horrible scene, 
crouched a group of men round a turned-up pail, on 
which they were playing a game at cards, and passing a 
flask of vodka from hand to hand, and from mouth to 
mouth. The starosta was looking on, and beckoned to 
Paul as he saw him seeking for a spot to rest in. 

“You’re my best beggar,” he said, “ yet you won’t 
take any vodka. So I’ve kept a place on the nari for 
you. 

A pleasant smile played over Paul’s face ; he rejoiced 
in those tokens of goodwill, and thanked the starosta 
heartily. But his eye fell on the grey head of an old 
convict, lying almost on the melted filth at his feet, and 
without a word he roused him and helped him up to the 
reserved place. The starosta shook his head and swore, 
but he gave Paul a glass of tea for Halya. 

The three Stundists crept silently together to the foot 


1892 O. S. 1893 N. S. 


273 


of Halya’s resting-place. From the first night of their 
long march they had made it their custom. They sang 
together a hymn, and then with bowed heads and cov- 
ered faces prayed each one in his own heart. At first 
they had been bitterly persecuted ; but now those nearest 
to them were, as a rule, quiet for the few minutes this 
worship lasted. To-night was the last of their long and 
painful journey. To-morrow they would reach Irkoutsk. 
They chose for their last hymn the one now familiar to 
Western Churches, “O happy band of pilgrims!” 
Voices from all parts of the kamera joined in the familiar 
words — strange words to utter in that den of human 
misery, and degradation, and crime. Then Paul leaned 
his weary body against one of the wooden pillars which 
supported the roof ; Demyan sank listlessly on the floor, 
and Stepan found a place where he could crawl under 
the platform. Night and sleep, haunted by terrible 
dreams, settled down on the prisoners. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


WOULD GOD IT WERE MORNING. 

Halya Stretched herself on the hard bare planks of 
the platform. She was somewhat refreshed by the tea 
and the scanty provision Paul had been able to procure 
for her. The three men had not eaten a morsel. She 
was still nursing her child ; but there was no possibility 
of bathing its tired little limbs. 

think Loukyanoushka looks strange,” she said to 
Paul ; “all the day he seemed so much better, it was a 
pleasure to see him. And now my darling is quite poorly 
again.” 

“ It was the fresh air,” answered Paul, sighing, “and 
there is such a thick smell here. But it is the last night, 
my dear one ! ” 

The baby was breathing with effort in this overcrowded 
room. He was discontented and offended by this change 
for the worse, and felt he had a full right to protest by 
crying. But he was sleepy, and could not postpone the 
pleasure of falling asleep in his mother’s arms, so he con- 
fined himself to a displeased murmur, which soon passed 
into a peaceful snoring. 

“Now, you see, I told you so!'” said Paul. Halya 
was cheered, and lay down cautiously not to disturb her 
baby. But she could not sleep. The boy tossed about 
in her arms, throwing out his little hands convulsively 
and beginning to cry. She would have got up and 
walked about with him, but the floor was covered with 
274 


WOULD GOD IT WERE MORNING. 


275 


sleeping forms. Sitting up, she rocked him to and fro, 
singing to him Oukranian songs. The baby seemed 
soothed and pacified. 

Singing always makes him happy,” thought Halya 
lovingly, “ he will grow up a singer like his father.” 

She was herself worn out with fatigue and want of 
sleep ; and as soon as the baby was quiet again she sank 
back upon their travelling-bag, which served her as a 
pillow, and fell instantly into the heavy slumber of com- 
plete exhaustion. How long she slept she did not know. 
The consciousness of their miserable condition never 
left her. A delirious dream filled her mind with horror. 
She was separated from Paul and was working in the sil- 
ver mines. She wore the prison dress and carried a 
shovel in her hands ; she, a free woman, who had fol- 
lowed her husband of her own accord. Near her was a 
cart, and there lay her baby. Thick darkness, filled with 
noises and oaths, surrounded them. A figure was com- 
ing towards her; she felt rather than saw it. It was 
Mironov ; but never had she seen a human face so full 
of fury. 

‘^Boys ! show this woman how to dig ! ” he shouted. 

A crowd of men came round her with hooting and 
laughter, and flung her into the hole she had just finished 
digging. 

“Throw in her little puppy too,” ordered Mironov, 
and she felt her child tossed down upon her. Then 
heavy lumps of earth were flung in amid hideous up- 
roar. They were burying her and her child alive. 
Heavy clods pressed upon her chest and throat. She 
was suffocating. 

“ O Lord ! receive my soul ! ” she cried out and 
awoke. 


276 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


But she did not altogether recover her senses. The 
lurid light of the lamp perplexed her ; the strange, 
miserable forms ; the thickening atmosphere. The 
kamera seemed a Pandemonium. 

One of the card-players had been cheating, and his 
companions were giving him a beating. The canteen 
keeper was trying to separate them by violent blows 
struck at random. 

Be quiet, you devils! Enough!” he thundered 

we shall have the lieutenant here, and others will 
suffer for you. You might even kill him in this 
way.” 

He tore the cheating player from the grasp of his 
comrades, and kicked him into a corner behind his 
canteen stand. The players sat down and began another 
game. 

Halya tried hard to collect her bewildered thoughts. 
By her side the baby was moaning and tossing about. 
She could not pacify him. His little body was all on 
fire. She turned his face towards the lamp, and her 
blood ran cold. 

The tiny face was quite blue, his eyes wide open, and 
his little mouth gasping for breath, like a fish drawn out 
of water. 

*‘Paul! Help!” cried Halya. Paul was instantly 
at her feet. 

“Look! he is dying!” said Halya, shuddering at 
her own words. 

“How can you say such a thing?” he asked in a 
soothing voice. 

“ But look ! ” she screamed. She rocked him in her 
arms, held him above her head and tried to make him 
laugh. But nothing was of any avail. The child cried 


WOULD GOD IT WERE MORNING. 277 

feebly, and opened his mouth wide to swallow the air 
that was suffocating him. 

Halya felt as if she was going mad. But a happy 
thought flashed across her mind. 

** Valerian can save him ! ” she exclaimed. 

In a moment she was rushing to the door, and stumb- 
ling over the bodies of the prisoners, which lay as 
thick as sheaves on a threshing-floor. She began to 
knock and call with all her might. The card-players 
were alarmed, and hid their cards; then showered 
abuses and threats upon her. The starosta came for- 
ward with upraised fist. 

**Stop! you vixen!” he roared, you’ll rouse the 
officers. Get back to your bed.” 

Paul stepped in between them to receive the blow in- 
tended for Halya. But at that instant the heavy outside 
bar of the door was withdrawn, and Mironov appeared 
on the threshold. 

“What is this noise? Who is the cause of it?” he 
asked, entering the kamera. 

But the stench was so strong he quickly retreated, and 
stood with his hand on the door to be able to shut it 
at the first chance. Halya stepped out into the pas- 
sage. 

“ My child is dying, your honour? ” she cried. 

“But what is that to me?” he asked; “I can’t 
help it.” 

“ Please let Valerian Petrovitch see him,” she im- 
plored; “he is my only child — a little boy : my first- 
born. Only let Valerian see him — he can save him.” 

All these few seconds the door was open ; and a fresh 
current of air streamed into this den, and brought out 
the sickening smell. But the prisoners were more afraid 


278 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


of the cold than of the polluted atmosphere, because 
their only defence against it was their damp rags. 

Shut the door ! Do you want to freeze us to death ? ” 
called out a hoarse voice. 

“ Shut the door, and stop your flirtation with the gen- 
tleman,” added another ironically. Halya shut it in- 
stantly. 

She wrapped her boy in her shawl to shield him 
from the piercing cold, but she did not think of herself. 

Oh ! allow me to see the doctor, little father ! ” 
she said beseechingly; he is the son of our old land- 
owner, General Nesteroff. He knows us all, and was 
always kind to the sick and poor.” 

It is against the law,” answered Mironov; **an 
exile must not practise as a doctor.” 

“ Is there a law that a mother must see her baby dying 
in her arms without help?” asked Halya. 

He pitied the woman ; and besides, he wished to 
please Valerian, who would gladly do anything to help 
his country-people. Valerian was sent for. 

Why don’t you go back into the kamera?” asked 
the lieutenant; “ you must not stay here barefoot.” 

That is nothing,” she replied, ** the child is a little 
better here.” 

When in about a quarter of an hour Valerian appeared 
he found the little creature quite revived. 

**He is quite well,” he said, examining the baby; 

must have been the foul air that made him seem 

ill.” 

‘‘But cannot you give him some medicine?” she 
asked, believing, as all peasants do, that there is a 
remedy for every ailment ; “ how shall I pass through 
the night with him ? ” 


WOULD GOD IT WERE MORNING. 279 

*‘He wants nothing,” said Valerian. Taking Mir- 
onov on one side, he spoke to him in an earnest whis- 
per. 

thousand times no!” protested Mironov in a 
loud voice; *‘you will get me into trouble with your 
requests. I’ve broken the rules already. This you ask 
means connivance. She is accompanying her husband, 
a common criminal, and she must be in the same kamera 
with him. To change from one kamera to another is 
strictly forbidden. Go back, young woman,” he 
added, turning to Halya; ‘‘you’ve seen the doctor, 
and that is all I can do.” 

He opened the door; but now the stench, after breath- 
ing the fresh air, was so horrible to her, she felt as if she 
were being thrust into a sewer. 

“ I can’t go ! ” she exclaimed ; “let me stay outside 
all night.” 

“Nonsense! you’d freeze to death! Get in ! ” said 
Mironov, giving her a push, and quickly fastening the 
door behind her. Paul and Stepan approached her 
anxiously. But for the first minute she could hardly 
breathe, and almost fainted. Then remembering her 
child she roused herself, and made her way to her place 
on the nari which Kilina had kept for her. Paul, satis- 
fied by her report of what Valerian said, fell asleep 
again. The child too was sleeping peacefully. Halya 
sat upon the nari absorbed in one thought — how to live 
through that awful night, and escape out of this loath- 
some den. Her head was dizzy ; and incoherent frag- 
ments of thoughts and memories whirled through her 
brain. She felt herself losing her reason. Kilina 
yawned and opened her drowsy eyelids. 

“Why don’t you go to sleep, my dear?” she said 


28 o 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


good-naturedly; are you unhappy about the baby? 
It is very hard to go on etape with children. How many 
of them die, God knows ! You are not the first, and 
won’t be the last." 

“It is cruel to talk like that," answered Halya, sob- 
bing. 

“I don’t mean any harm," said Kilina; “I do 
not wish him any evil. But I say it because I see he is 
dying." 

The lamp flashed up for a moment, and a thick cloud 
of smoke followed the glare. The baby began to gasp 
again ; opened his eyes and shut them, breathing heavily 
with his exhausted lungs. Halya watched his move- 
ments with an aching heart. 

“The morning! Oh, Lord! let the morning come 
soon," she prayed. 

But the morning was far off yet, and the sun did not 
hasten his rising to come to her help. The window 
with its thick bars looked like a black abyss. 

The small oil lamp, which seemed smothered by the 
weight of the polluted atmosphere, struggled along with 
the darkness. It threw a purple glimmering light upon 
the dirty walls and reeking ceiling, from which drops 
of congealed moisture fell from time to time upon the 
slimy floor, with its throng of human beings in the half 
death of sleep. Paul was near her, leaning against the 
wooden support, with his head falling on to his chest. 
She had seen a picture of the Crucifixion of Christ, with 
the thorn-crowned head in a similar position. She 
wondered, in her bewildered brain, if they had crucified 
Paul. 

Two card-players were still at play. One of them, 
whose face she could not see, had lost all his money, 


WOULD GOD IT WERE MORNING. 


281 


his rations for the next day, and his prison dress, for 
which, when he reached Irkoutsk he would get a severe 
flogging. But still he wanted to go on. 

‘‘Enough! ” said his companion, flinging down the 
cards, and throwing himself backwards with a loud 
yawn. He was Kilina’s husband, a small, red-haired 
man, apparently an artisan. 

“ One game more, you devil 1 ” cried the loser. 

“How many last ones have we had?” asked the 
other; “ it is time to sleep.” 

“ Ah ! you cursed swindler ! you cheat me, and then 
— sleep.” 

The face of the red-haired man was distorted with 
fury. Without saying a word, he plucked out of his 
high boot a long and glittering knife, which, in spite of 
many searches, he had managed to keep in his pos- 
session. Halya caught the baby to her breast to save 
him in any emergency. But at the same time,* she 
wished they would make such a row as to compel 
the officer to open the door, and bring in a rush of fresh 
air. 

The canteen keeper, however, caught Kilina’s husband 
by the collar, and shook him so fiercely that the knife 
fell from his grasp. 

“ Only dare to make a row ! ” he exclaimed. 

“ Leave me alone, pig’s earl” retorted the red-haired 
gambler, replacing the knife in his boot, and contenting 
himself with muttering oaths and curses. Soon after all 
was quiet — if it could be called quiet — when the kamera 
was full of sounds of human misery, the wailing and 
coughing of little children, the sobs that women uttered 
in their broken sleep, the deep groans of men who 
dreamed of their lost freedom. Outside the storm con- 


282 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


tinued to howl and roar. The chinks of the log build- 
ing and of the roof were filled up with snow, and im- 
perviously sealed against the admission of fresh air, or 
the escape of foul. The lamp could hardly flicker. 
Halya counted every minute, her eyes fastened on the 
gasping child lying on her lap. 

Suddenly the boy awoke with a piteous cry. Kilina 
lifted up her head and looked at him. 

He is dying, my poor dear ! ” she said calmly. 

It’s not true ! God will not let him die,” answered 
Halya. 

The child shuddered, stretched himself out, and lay 
motionless. 

‘‘ Now we are better again, darling ! ” said Halya 
tenderly, pressing the little corpse to her bosom. The 
lamp flickered up once more, and died out, filling the 
air with a horrid smell. Deep darkness reigned in the 
kamera. The dead child lay softly in his mother’s 
arms. 

“Now he has gone to sleep again,” said Halya to 
Kilina, rocking and soothing the baby. By -and -bye 
she pressed her lips to its little face. It was icy cold, 
the indescribable coldness of death. 

A heart-rending scream rang through the kamera. All 
the prisoners sprang to their feet. 

“What is the matter? Who is killed?” called out 
frightened voices in the utter darkness. 

“ My boy is killed ! ” shrieked the unhappy mother. 

Kilina slipped off the platform and caught Paul by the 
arm. 

“ Take my place,” she said, “ and comfort her if you 
can.” 

Paul sat down beside Halya and gathered her into his 


WOULD GOD IT WERE MORNING. 283 

arms, and pressed her dear head upon his breast. She 
shivered and trembled; but she listened to his voice. 
He talked to her of the old happy times in Knishi, when 
they were children together, and she lay quiet, sobbing 
now and then. But when he spoke to her of the future, 
of the heavenly home which Christ was preparing for 
them, she grew excited again. The dead child lay be- 
tween her and the wall. 

Paul’s heart was torn with anguish. Halya had left 
all for him, as he had left all for Christ. His love for 
her was a hundredfold deeper than it had been before 
she became his wife. He caught a glimpse of the 
Divine Love. To give up his life for her was little ; 
he was willing to pour out his soul unto death for her 
sake. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


VIA DOLOROSA. 

Halya had lost her reason. Fortunately, however, 
she was so worn-out with fatigue and sorrow she was not 
dangerous either to herself or others. She was laid in 
one of the rough, springless carts, which were provided 
for the sick and infirm, and Kilina was allowed to take 
charge of her. Paul, with some difficulty, obtained per- 
mission from Mironov to carry his dead child to Irkoutsk, 
instead of laying the little corpse in the baggage waggon. 
It seemed dearer to him than the living baby he had 
carried yesterday. 

The storm was over by morning. The roll-call was 
made, and four prisoners were missing ; they must have 
lost their way and been frozen to death on the open 
plain. But as they were common criminals Mironov 
was not over troubled on their account. He did not 
think it necessary to make any search for their bodies. 
He marked their names as being lost during a sudden 
snowstorm, and left instructions with the etape keeper, 
in case any corpse was found when the snow melted, to 
notify the fact to the prison authorities in Irkoutsk. 

Paul, with his dead baby in his arms, marched in the 
column of prisoners, Stepan and Demyan walking beside 
him in silence. His heart was full of memories of the 
child’s short life. It had been born while he was in 
prison ; and he had not seen it until the long journey 
into exile had begun. But during that journey what a 
284 


VIA DOLOROSA. 


285 


ray of happiness the baby had brought in to the daily 
and hourly misery of their lives ! They had watched it 
grow with the slow stunted growth of a nursling whose 
mother is suffering. But how bright and quick he had 
been ! He had laughed and cooed in their faces when 
they were most cast down. Only a day or two ago the 
little one had tried to call him “ father.” 

If the child had only been spared one day longer ! 
The goal of their long march was in sight, and he would 
be free to make a home for his wife and child. Yet it 
had been God’s will the child should be taken and his 
wife stricken down. ‘‘ If this cup may not pass from me 
Thy will be done ! ” cried Paul in his inmost soul. 

“ Paul ! ” said a voice of profound pity beside him. 
Stepan and Demyan fell back a pace or two and Valerian 
walked beside him. For an instant the old terror flut- 
tered across Paul’s heart, but it was gone as he looked 
into Valerian’s face, and was gone for ever. 

** Halya will recover,” said Valerian confidently, 
** and will be as sane as ever. You will have a home of 
your own in Irkoutsk, and I will help you to get a liv- 
ing. I have some friends there who will find you work. 
Demyan, too, will soon get employed as a blacksmith. 
It will be exile, but it will not be intolerable.” 

No,” answered Paul, with a new gleam of light and 
courage in his eyes as he met Valerian’s sympathetic 
glance. 

We lose Stepan,” continued Valerian. 

Stepan goes gladly!” said Stepan’s voice behind 
him ; ‘‘he goes as the messenger of the Lord to preach 
the Gospel to those who sit in darkness and the shadow 
of death.” 

“Brave man!” exclaimed Valerian, turning to him 


286 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


with a smile. For a few minutes he walked on silently. 
At last he stretched out his hand and touched gently the 
sorrowful little burden Paul was bearing. 

“ A flower crushed by the heel of a monster ! ” he 
said. 

A flower transplanted into the Garden of God ! ” 
said Paul. 

The two exiles looked into one another’s eye with a 
keen and steadfast gaze. 

“ I know what you would say,” Paul went on, I live 
in a delusion. Well, I read in the Book God has given 
to me that man by wisdom knows not God, and that the 
wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. I know 
you are a learned man and I cannot argue with you. 
But this also I know, that Christ dwells within me by 
faith. By faith alone I know Him and the Father. I 
cannot tell you what faith is, any more than I could ex- 
plain sight to the blind or sound to the deaf. But it is 
here within me ; and by it I can endure all things, as 
seeing Him who is invisible.” 

** You are a happy man ! ” said Valerian ; “I could 
almost wish I shared your delusion.” 

It is no delusion ! ” exclaimed Paul earnestly, ‘Mt is 
a truth for which every one of us is ready to die. Look 
round you ! Look at my dead child ! Look at the 
wretchedness, and the crime, and the degradation that is 
all about us. Look at your own condition — exiled, a 
prisoner, lost to all you held dear. If there is no God, 
no Saviour, no life hereafter, what a hell this world 
would be ! ” 

The words brought back to their memory the fateful 
day when Paul, addressing his neighbours in the church 
at Knishi, exclaimed, “ What a Paradise the world would 


VIA DOLOROSA. 287 

be ! ” Their eyes filled with tears. Valerian caught 
Paul’s hand in a close clasp. 

“ We are brothers, Paul ! ” he cried, strangely moved ; 
“ let us stand side by side in the future which lies before 
us.” 

You will not argue with me? ” said Paul. 

“Not a word,” answered Valerian, smiling. “I 
would not take your beautiful faith from you any more 
than I would snatch a cup of water from dying lips. We 
will be brothers in spite of our differences.” 

They reached Irkoutsk in the full expectation of pass- 
ing their last night in the etape there. Halya was taken 
at once to the infirmary. But they were not released in 
the morning ; Demyan alone of the three Stundists was 
turned adrift in the strange town to earn his living as he 
could. Vania was sent on towards his destination be- 
yond the Arctic Circle, to live with savages in their foul 
huts. .Vera was allowed to quit the etape. But Valerian 
and Paul were still kept in prison. 

A new blow awaited them. The local authorities had 
received instructions from St. Petersburg, the reading of 
which evoked shrieks and wailing from the maddened 
men who heard them. Almost half the number of con- 
victs were ordered to prolong their painful march to the 
new and awful settlement of Saghalien. The division 
among the common criminals was made at random; 
some of them implicated in the same crime remaining in 
Siberia, the others going on to the deadly island. All 
the political prisoners, with the exception of Vera and 
Vania, were also sentenced to it. Stepan and Paul met 
with the same fate. Life-long exile in Saghalien was 
their doom. Paul was suffered, as a favour, to see Halya 
once more ; and to bury his child, aided by Demyan, 


288 


THE HIGHWAY OF SORROW. 


who promised to take Halya under his care until she 
could follow her husband. 

Under these low wintry skies, in the gloomy light, en- 
veloped in ice-mists, and torn from all that makes life 
worth living, we see them, a long drawn out chain of 
unutterable anguish ; the common criminals, the agnos- 
tic patriot, and the Christian martyrs ; and as we gaze 
they vanish from our sight along their Via Dolorosa — the 
Highway of Sorrow. 


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